


Keep Gotham in Gotham

by daydreamer1227



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Arkham Asylum, Batmobile, Blood and Injury, Gen, Gotham, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Protective Wally West, Violence, gotham villains - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25789369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamer1227/pseuds/daydreamer1227
Summary: Batman is off planet when Robin is called to meet with the Joker, so the Dark Knight sends the team on their next mission: accompany Robin to Arkham Asylum to meet the worst of the worst. Robin's teammates quickly learn that Gotham villains aren't their typical bad guys, and the Joker has it in for their resident bird.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Wally West, Joker & Kid Flash, Joker & Robin, Kid Flash & Robin
Comments: 50
Kudos: 362





	1. Arkham

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete and dual posted on my fanfiction.net account under the same name.

Wally bounced his knee up and down as he shoved popcorn into his mouth next to a grumpy Artemis. It had been an uneventful day at the mountain–It had been an uneventful week–and Wally was itching to get back into the field. He could tell Robin was growing restless as well. The acrobat was balanced upside down on the coffee table with one hand, casually showing off. Artemis watched with a narrowed gaze and Wally bit back a laugh–The rest of the team hadn't quite gotten used to bored Robin yet.

"Batman to Team."

Wally shot to his feet, sending the bowl of popcorn flying. He was the first to the communications screen, and he was met with Batman's scowling face.

He should have waited for Robin.

Kaldur hurried to Wally's side, his hair wet from his swim in the pool. "Batman," he said. "Have you a mission for us?"

"Yes."

Wally straightened. Batman did not sound happy–not that he ever sounded _happy_ , more that he presently sounded distinctly unhappy. An unhappy Batman meant a serious mission, one he was uncomfortable sending them on. Wally hadn't really been keeping track, but based on the general tally in his head, those missions did not tend to end well.

Connor and M'gann entered from the kitchen, the smell of burnt cupcakes clinging to their clothes. Artemis trudged in from the lounge with a glower, pulling a piece of stray popcorn out of her hair.

"Where's Robin?" asked Batman, eyes narrowed to slits.

Wally motioned over his shoulder. "He's over–"

"Here."

Wally jumped and swore.

Robin frowned when he caught sight of his mentor on the screen. "What's happened?"

"I just spoke with Gordon. You're needed in Gotham."

Robin tensed. "So why call in the team?"

"Because I'm off planet. I can't be there."

Robin shook his head. "I'm not taking the team to Gotham."

"Yes," said Batman, "you are."

"No," said Robin, his voice darker than Wally had ever heard it. "I'm not. They're not..." _They're not ready._ _Gotham will eat them alive._ "They're not familiar with Gotham."

"Gordon asked for you," said Batman. "It is time sensitive, otherwise you and I would go together."

"Batman, what is going on?" asked Robin, frustrated. "I've fought in Gotham without you, before."

"Joker is asking for you. Threatening to detonate a bomb if you don't show."

"Absolutely not. I'm not taking the team _there_ , of all places."

“I don’t understand,” said Artemis. “Take us where?”

"You are not the only one," said Kaldur. "Batman. It is my understanding that you have previously forbade us from entering Gotham. Why do these circumstances differ?"

"Because we won't be fighting crime," said Robin, crossing his arms. "We'll be sightseeing."

"The Joker is currently held in Arkham Asylum," said Batman.

Wally blanched.

"If he's locked up," said M'gann, "how can he detonate a bomb?"

"His threats are not to be taken lightly," said Batman.

"Why do all of us need to go?" asked Connor.

"Batman thinks I need a babysitter."

"Robin," said Batman. "Do not fight me on this."

"They've never seen Gotham before," said Robin, his voice softer. "Arkham isn't exactly the best place to start."

"I expect you to check in with me the moment you finish there."

Robin's body relaxed somewhat. "Okay," he said quietly.

"I'll be back on Earth soon. Batman out." The screen went dark.

"Dude," said Wally, "are you gonna be okay?"

Robin turned away. "All of you, suit up. Aqualad, I would like to take point on this one."

"I presumed as much," said Kaldur. "Gotham is your city. It would be foolish for you not to."

"Meet at the bioship in five," said Robin, walking away.

"Arkham Asylum, huh?" said Artemis, moving to Wally's side with a hand on her hip. "This should be fun."

"Batman seemed really worried," said M'gann.

"It's not like the Joker can attack while behind bars," said Connor.

"It's not a physical threat he's worried about," said Wally.

"You know something, Kid?" asked Kaldur, eager for some insight into their mission.

"Not much," said Wally, frowning. "Gotham's full of psychos, and the worst of the worst get thrown into Arkham. All of Rob's greatest enemies in one building… He's only been in there once. He didn't really talk about it, but I could tell it shook him up."

"Then we must be there for him the best we can," said Kaldur, nodding to himself in confirmation.

The ride in the bioship was a silent one. It was strange, Wally thought, flying over Gotham. The city was dark. It looked sick. It was nothing like Central City.

"Land there," said Robin.

M'gann landed the camouflaged bioship in a big, open space on the dead property of the asylum. They'd flown right over the wiry, black, iron entrance gate, the words 'Arkham Asylum' sending a collective shiver down their spines.

"Everyone, stealth mode," said Robin.

"What?" said Wally. "Why?"

"Best not to draw attention to yourself, KF," said Robin, pointedly looking at Wally's bright yellow and red suit.

"You're one to talk."

"Just do it."

Wally pressed his Flash insignia, turning his suit a dark gray and Miss Martian altered her clothes to black and red.

They moved to disembark but Robin blocked their way. "Don't talk to the prisoners. Don't listen to a word that comes out of their mouths. No matter what they say, you've got to stay whelmed. The only people you listen to in there are me and Commissioner Gordon." He turned away. "All of you are welcome to remain here if you wish."

"No way, Rob," said Wally, moving to his friend's side. "We've got your back."

"We will stick together as a team," nodded Kaldur.

The stone, gothic building stretched above them in towers. The windows glowed a dull yellow, silhouetting the bars that covered them. The vines that snaked the walls were long since dead, leaving dark, wiry stems that looked like veins creeping over the stone. Search lights were perched on top of the walls surrounding the compound. There was a ghost of mad laughter in the air that had the team knitting tightly together behind their youngest member.

They were buzzed through the front door easily enough. Men in bullet proof vests and combat boots manned each dimly lit hallway, each with their own private arsenal. Robin led the team through multiple electronically locked and monitored iron gates. They were buzzed through by members of security who all clearly recognized Robin.

They came to a dark room filled with monitors and computers and people in headsets.

"Commissioner," said Robin, relieved to see the graying man in the far corner.

Gordon turned, lighting up when he saw them. "Robin," he greeted in his gravelly voice. "And your team? Batman told me you would have company. Frankly, I'm glad that he... Well. Are you ready?"

"What was it exactly that Joker told you?" asked Robin as Gordon led them through the next security checkpoint.

"Just that there was a bomb hidden somewhere in Gotham, and that he would trigger it if he didn't speak with you within twenty-four hours."

"But he's been searched," said Robin, frustrated. "There's nothing in that cell with him."

"There's not," said Gordon, "but there hadn't been anything in there last time, either." They stopped in front of a large, heavy, metal mechanical door. "Joker is in maximum security in the deepest sector of this building. You remember how to get there?"

Robin nodded. "Stay here and monitor us. Notify Batman if anything goes wrong."

"Do you want backup? I can spare some men."

"I have my team. I'll radio you if we need anything."

Gordon returned to the security room where he could monitor the happenings of the entire building. There was a loud clanking sound, and a hiss, and the door slowly moved to the side.

"M'gann," said Robin, standing straight, "Link us up."

M'gann nodded and her eyes glowed briefly. _'Everyone here?'_

' _Yeah_ ,' said Artemis, ' _Why the mind link, Robin?_ '

' _It's best they have as little reason to antagonize us as possible. Stay quiet and stay traught._ '

They stepped through the opening, and the heavy metal door closed shut behind them with a cacophonous echo. They were in an empty hallway with another door of the same make ahead.

' _What is this place?_ ' asked M'gann. ' _It's empty._ '

_'A precaution,'_ said Robin. _'This is the maximum-security wing. These rooms are between each cell, so the prisoners can't talk to each other.'_ He put his hand to the comm in his ear. "Gordon, open Bay Two door."

As the second door hissed open, they heard quiet mutterings from the other side. There was a single cell on the right side of the hallway between them and the next door.

Garfield Lynns was horribly scarred and unsettling to look at without his Firefly suit, but his eyes still raged with the flames that the arsonist used to burn Gotham. The man was laid back on his cot of a bed, but when he saw them, he was on his feet and at the large bulletproof glass that separated them from his cell in a second. A hoarse laugh escaped his throat, and he pressed his palms against the glass.

"Wonder Boy," he said, his voice scratchy, his eyes feeding on Robin. "You survived the fire."

Robin tightened his jaw and kept walking.

"Gotham _will_ burn," said Firefly, following them from behind the glass. "And you will burn with her. I'll peel the charred flesh off your bones!"

"Gordon," said Robin, his voice smooth, "Open door to Bay Three."

The heroes stood there as the door clicked and hissed.

Firefly slammed a fist against the glass and screamed. M'gann let out a small cry and Wally jerked sideways into Robin.

"You will burn, Wonder Boy, do you hear me?" Firefly shouted as he pounded against the glass. "You and the Batman!"

A scene flashed in all of their minds of Robin restrained, fire surrounding him, gasping and choking on smoke as his skin blistered–

Robin staggered, and the door shut behind them. They were in the next security hallway. He spun around to see the ghastly pale faces of his team members. Wally looked like he was going to throw up.

M'gann wiped her eyes. "Sorry. That was my fault. I–I accidentally projected his thoughts into the mind link. I swear I didn't mean to. He was just so loud. The things in his head..." she choked, turning into Connors chest.

"That was... unsettling," said Kaldur, looking at the door behind them.

"I'll say," muttered Artemis.

"I knew you shouldn't have come," Robin muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "You're all going to be traumatized after this. What was Batman thinking?"

"Uh, that you shouldn't set foot in this place alone?" said Wally. "Dude, who was that guy?"

"That was Firefly. Arsonist of Gotham City."

"Rob..."

"What you saw? That never happened."

"But still…" said Connor, his arm around M'gann.

Robin sighed. "Look, things are going to get much worse than that. Firefly is hardly one of the worst in here. Get traught or go back."

"How are you so calm?" asked Artemis, wrapping her arms around herself.

"All par for the course."

"But," she said, swallowing, "he's hell bent on burning you alive. What if–What happens if–"

"You can't make mistakes in Gotham," said Robin softly. "You make mistakes, you die." He turned away. "Gordon. Bay Four."

The door hissed and dragged open.

_'Stick close,'_ said Robin into the mind link. They moved forward.

In the cell on the left was a balding, potbellied man with a large nose and a monocle. He perked up as the heroes entered. "Well, ain't this a surprise," he said. He approached the glass. "A visit from the Boy Blunder 'imself. I'm honored." He looked at the other heroes with narrowed eyes. "Who're these chickies? They look a little shaken. Whatsa matta? Is old Arkham too much for ya? Too bloody for ya?" Penguin's eyes caught Artemis' who stiffened.

Robin swiftly stepped in front of her.

"Aw, ain't that sweet," drawled Penguin. "He wants ta protect his girlfriend. I ain't seen ya round, Blunder Boy. I can't stop thinking about the last time you and I had a nice chat. We should do it again sometime."

An image, sharper this time, more vivid, a memory, flashed through their heads–Robin, Penguin's white, gloved fist tangled in his hair, the barrel of a gun shoved inside his stretched mouth as he stared into the eyes of Penguin, gagging–

Robin took a sharp breath at the unexpected image and Penguin laughed.

Wally gently pulled Robin towards the next door.

"I'll see ya soon, Robin," said Penguin as they started moving again. "We're birds of a feather, you and I. Tell Batsy I said hi."

"Gordon, Bay Five door," said Robin, but his voice wasn't as strong as it had been.

The door hissed and moved to the side. It closed behind them.

"I'm sorry," said M'gann softly. "I can't control it when it takes me by surprise like that. It breaks right through my defenses."

Robin let out a loose breath. "It's all right, M'gann. Just... Maybe you should take me out of the mind link."

Something cold settled in Wally's gut. "No," he said, hating the idea of alienating Robin like that.

"I agree with Kid Flash," said Kaldur slowly. "Now, more than ever, we need to be aware of each other's states of mind."

"I can't show weakness in front of these people," said Robin, "but I can't help it if I keep getting these images thrown at me in my head."

"But, the gun," said Artemis, unnerved.

"Not the first time that's happened," said Robin, his voice bitter. "Gordon, Bay Six door."

As the door hissed open, Wally held up a hand in protest. "Wait, Rob, I think we all just need some time–"

"I don't want to spend any more time in here than I need to, KF," Robin muttered.

It was Professor Hugo Strange, ex-head psychiatrist of Arkham Asylum, the man that Bruce Wayne had once called the most dangerous man in the world.

Robin stiffened. Strange knew Batman's secret identity, and by extension, his own.

The man's eyes found Robin through his coke-bottle glasses. Thick, bushy eyebrows went up as Strange shifted on his cot to face them. Robin didn't move, and he felt the team grow restless at his back. Wally put a hand on his shoulder from behind, and he managed a step forward.

"Well," drawled Strange, looking Robin up and down, "If it isn't my favorite acrobat."

Strange, in his discomforting craze of an obsession over Batman, had kept Richard and Bruce's identities to himself. Batman must have known that with Strange in Arkham, Dick Grayson being revealed to the team was a very real possibility. Batman had put a lot at risk, letting the team come with Robin to Arkham. More than Robin had initially realized.

"You're not looking so good, Robin," said Strange, leaning back against the wall. "We've talked about this. You keep your feelings bottled up like you do, it's gonna weigh you down."

Robin grit his teeth and stiffly moved forward.

"You should talk to someone. Talk to your parents."

Robin stopped dead.

Strange was at the glass in an instant. "What's wrong? Not on speaking terms anymore?"

Strange knew very well what had happened to his parents, the bastard.

_'Robin?'_ asked a concerned M'gann in the mind link.

Wally looked panicked. ' _Rob, don't listen to him. It's like you said, just stay traught, right?_ '

Robin could feel the rest of the team's confusion through the link.

_'Just keep moving,'_ said Wally.

Robin trudged forward.

Artemis grit her teeth. She'd known about Arkham's villains. What she hadn't known was how each of them seemingly had a personal vendetta against her friend. She knew that Batman and Robin fought the crazies, but the villains were hardly giving the rest of the team a second glance. They entered the room, and eyes immediately zeroed in on the youngest hero–the hero that Firefly wanted to burn, that Penguin had held closer than point blank, and that this bald man in front of her had put in a state of unease with just a few well-placed words. As she looked at the tense shoulders lined by the black cape in front of her, she had to accept that the words had somehow hit a vulnerable point in the Boy Wonder. Artemis hadn't thought Robin _had_ vulnerable points. She pulled her arms tight around herself and averted her eyes from the man whose lips stretched into a grin as he watched Robin walk away.

"Gordon," said Robin, and to Artemis' horror, his voice cracked. "Door to Bay Seven."

"Until next time, Robin," Strange called as the door hissed shut behind them.

Once they were in the safety of the next security room, Wally took Robin by the shoulders and looked at him with a furrowed brow. "You okay?"

Connor frowned. "Why are you upset?"

Robin shrugged Kid Flash off, annoyed that he'd let Strange get to him. It just wasn't every day that a villain threw his parents' deaths in his face like that.

M'gann hesitated. "Was it... Was it what he said about your parents?"

Robin flinched, and Aqualad stepped forward. "Remember that Batman has forbade Robin from speaking of his identity with us, Miss M."

M'gann wilted. "Oh," she said. "Right."

"So, he doesn't trust us?" asked Conner. "Why would Batman trust us to protect you in the field, but not with your identity? I don't get it. I thought he was different–" _from Superman_.

"He trusts you," said Robin quietly.

"He has a funny way of showing it."

"If he didn't trust you, I wouldn't be on the team," said Robin. "He trusted you to come with me here. Even Superman has never been to Arkham."

Conner stared. "What?"

"No powers in Gotham," said Robin, reciting Batman's number one rule. "Welcome to Gotham, Superboy."

"But if he trusts us," said M'gann, "why can't we know who you are?"

Robin looked down. "M'gann, I can't."

"It is all right, Robin," said Kaldur, "We understand."

Robin nodded, still looking at the floor, but Wally knew that they didn't understand at all. Robin knew the identities of most of the league's senior members, along with security protocols to the Watchtower, being one of the core programmers. If Robin's identity were to get out on the streets, his best friend would never be safe again.

"Gordon, door to Bay Eight."

"What Bay is Joker in?" asked Wally as the door hissed and began to open, hating every second in the asylum.

"Twenty-Two"

Wally deflated. "Damn."

They entered the next room

Without his Scarecrow mask, Jonathan Crane looked like an ill college professor with his stringy dark hair, angular jaw, and half-rimmed glasses. He sat on the floor in the corner of his cell, staring without blinking.

The team walked towards the next door.

"Not even going to say hello?" Crane's voice was silk and sane. He seemed civil. Out of place. Like he didn't belong in an asylum. "I knew Batman was the dark and silent type, but you, Robin? You usually don't hesitate with your quips."

Robin hated psychologists. Bad experiences. Hugo Strange, Jonathan Crane, Harleen Quinzel–If he ever needed actual therapy, he was screwed. Sure, there was Dinah, but he didn't think he could ever trust a psychologist. Even after that training exercise mishap, he had found himself holding back.

"You brought your friends," said Crane. "Batman doesn't want you in Arkham alone. Smart. There's not a soul here that doesn't wish they could hear you scream. We all want you dead, Boy Wonder, don't get me wrong, but if any of us get our hands on you, don't expect to die quickly. But you already know this, don't you?" said Crane, picking at a hang-nail. "You are, after all, not unintelligent. I'd imagine, after what Joker and Two Face have done to you, this is something you could hardly forget, even if you wished to."

Connor's hands clenched into fists. The team had fought Cadmus, the Reds, Blockbuster, Cheshire, Wotan–so many villains–but they'd never given Connor pause. Some had powers. Some didn't. Connor fought them alongside his team to stop their plans for domination. But these Gotham villains had him raging with discomfort. They were different. They weren't rational, they were obsessed. Sadistic. They had no clear objective other than to wreak havoc. They didn't want money. They didn't want power. They wanted chaos, and pain, and panic, and their obsession with his youngest teammate left a discomforting squeeze in his gut.

"Gordon, Bay Nine," said Robin.

Crane smirked. "You stand tall and you act strong, Boy Wonder, but you forget. I've seen you at your worst. You can't fool me."

"Shut up," snapped Connor as the giant door in front of them hissed open.

"Superboy," said Robin.

Crane chuckled. "Batman was a fool to let these children come here. They're not like us, Robin. Gotham is not for the weak."

The six of them stepped through the door and it latched shut behind them.

"Who was that?" asked M'gann, her soft voice quiet.

"Scarecrow," said Robin.

"I don't know who that is," grumbled Connor.

"A real psycho," said Kid Flash.

"Specializes in chemical warfare," explained Robin. "He mixes toxins as powerful hallucinogens and uses them to incapacitate his victims."

"Have you ever been–?" asked Connor.

Robin nodded. "More than once. You learn to work through it."

"What does it do?" asked M'gann.

Robin hesitated. "He calls it Fear Gas. It's pretty self-explanatory. Makes you see your worst fears by triggering the release of cortisol and adrenaline into the brain and speeding up the heart. It's physical as much as it is mental. Some go mad from exposure."

Kaldur furrowed his brow. As an Atlantean, he was immune to most toxins and resistant to others, so the idea of chemical warfare was unfamiliar to him, but the mere thought that Robin had been repeatedly exposed to a toxin that could cause madness from fear left him distinctly uncomfortable. "Batman allows you to fight such a dangerous man?"

"Don't start, Kal,” said Robin, annoyed. “Batman doesn't _allow_ me to do anything. I'm his partner, not his sidekick. Gordon, door to Bay Ten."

The door hissed and slid slowly to the side, and their noses were assaulted with the musky smell of decaying vegetation and mud.

There was a deep, gravelly rumble of a hiss. They stepped into the room, and the door shut behind them.

"I thought I caught your scent."

Killer Croc's cell was drastically different from the previous few. It was bigger, with a deep pool of water near the back. It was a swamp. The creature itself towered above them. In addition to the bullet proof glass, there were thick iron bars that kept the scaly, misshapen man from being able to even touch the glass.

Large, yellow eyes found Robin as the beast of a man approached the bars. He lifted his giant ham of a fist and pounded one of the thick, metal rods. The metal groaned under the pressure, and for the first time that night, Wally feared for his life. He tugged Robin's sleeve forward, ready to leave that creature behind.

"Killer Croc want to tear little bird." There was a flash of teeth, and KF felt sick to his stomach. The creature was easily twice Robin's height and had the muscular mass of Bane when he was juiced up. How did Robin fight such a monster without getting shredded to pieces? He didn't think even Superboy would stand a chance against that thing.

Robin must have felt his discomfort, or perhaps he was feeling his own, because he moved quickly. Wally was grateful.

The fist slammed into the metal bar again, the resulting groan sending Wally's heart into his throat.

"Gordon, Bay Eleven."

The door hissed open, and they hurried through it, leaving the persistent banging behind them.

Wally fought to catch his breath, wondering when exactly it was that he had lost it.

"How do you fight that?" asked Artemis, sounding just as shaken.

"From afar," said Robin. "Killer Croc is one of Gotham's villains that I try not to antagonize in close quarters."

"One hit from him, your entire chest is crushed," said Wally, eyes wide.

Robin winced. "I could have done without that mental image, KF."

"Are we close to being done yet?" asked Artemis. She was ready to leave Arkham behind her. Though when she thought about turning around and walking back through all of those rooms again on their way out, she was tempted to believe they might be better off if they just stayed in one of those empty little security hallways forever.

"No," said Robin. "Gordon, door to Bay Twelve."

The door hissed open.

Pigtails. White face. A stretched smile. "Long time no see, Puddin. Mista Jay is gonna be so happy ya came ta visit. I'll bet he's waitin' for ya, right now."

Robin paused. Harley Quinn was psychotic, but she also usually knew what the Joker was up to.

"Harley," Robin greeted.

Wally elbowed him with wide eyes.

Harley sauntered up to the glass and leaned her forehead against it with an eerie grin that matched her partner's. "Watcha' need, Wonder Boy?"

Robin approached her, stopping a few inches from the glass. "What's Joker's game?"

Harley's lips stretched wider. "You always were my favorite opponent o' his. Batsy's just too uptight."

"Harley."

Harley huffed and pulled her head off the glass. "All right, already. Party pooper. No games this time. Puddin' says he just wants ta talk."

"To me," said Robin slowly. "Not Batman?"

"That ol' stick in the mud? We just saw B-Man the other day. We see him all the time. We don't see you nearly as much no more. We miss ya, Robby. Jay promised nobody would get blown up if ya came for a visit. My puddin' always keeps his promises."

A cold feeling settled in his gut. The last time he and Joker had _talked,_ he'd been beaten half to hell. Joker was in a cell, now, though. He wouldn't have a crowbar hiding in his sleeve, and even if he did, he would be behind bullet proof glass. Robin didn't doubt for a second that Joker would follow through with his bomb threat if Robin didn't show. Joker had never been one to cry wolf.

"Goodbye, Harley," said Robin, turning away.

"Later, Wonder Boy. Say hi ta Mista Jay and Red for me, will ya?"

The door shut behind them.

Wally shivered. "She gives me the creeps."

"Yeah," said Robin, his mind on the Joker.

"She looked so young," said M'gann. "How'd she get tangled up with someone like the Joker?"

"She was his psychiatrist," said Robin, shrugging. "Fell in love with him, broke him out of Arkham. A total disaster, heavy on the dis."

"She worked here?" asked Artemis, shocked.

"She was new," said Robin. "Gordon, door to Bay Thirteen."

Wally stiffened. "Unlucky number thirteen."

"Don't start," Robin groaned.

"Who's in there?" asked Wally.

"Riddle me this," breathed Robin as they stepped forward.

"The _Riddler_?" Wally hissed.

Edward Nigma, sat with his back against the wall, looked up as they entered. He straightened and leaned forward with interest. "Well, well. I certainly wasn't expecting company this fine evening. But you aren't here for me, are you? Who managed to get you here without the B-Man, Robbie? My money's on Jay. That old clown always did have a way with you bats." The Riddler's eyes caught sight of Robin's team, and he perked up even more. "What's this? You've brought friends?" He scrambled to his feet and approached the glass, stopping in front of Wally. "You're the Flash's sidekick, right? Well, riddle me this, Speedy Gonzales. What walks on four legs, then two legs, then three legs?"

Wally frowned. "Man," he said slowly, uncertainly.

Robin groaned into the mind link, but the damage had been done. The Riddler's smile widened, and he got a wild look in his eyes. "Wrongo, Kid! The correct answer is a baby."

Wally furrowed his brow and frowned.

"A baby crawls on all fours," said Riddler, his voice manic. "Then, cut off its arms, it's only got its two legs. Stake it through the heart with the sharpened handle of a pitchfork and stick the prongs in the ground, and it's got three."

Wally's mouth gave a slight drop in his horror. Robin pulled his friend back and away from the glass to head to the next door.

The Riddler laughed. "Hey, Robbie," he said, chest heaving, "what exactly did the clown say to get you in here? I may have to try it sometime. You wouldn't believe how boring this place gets. You knew the answer to my riddle, I'm sure."

Robin clenched his teeth. "Gordon. Bay Fourteen."

"You've always been able to figure out my riddles. Got away with a lot less once you became B-Man's partner. We have the same sense of humor, you and I. While it is... insufferable, I find myself unwillingly intrigued."

The door locked shut behind them.

"What kind of a sick riddle was that?" asked Wally.

"What did you expect, a 'why did the chicken cross the road?'" asked Robin. There was a haunted look creeping onto his friends' faces and he hated it. He shouldn't have let them come. Batman was wrong. "I told you not to engage them."

"You talked to Quinn," said Artemis.

"But I know what I'm doing," said Robin, his voice harsh. "I know how to deal with the people here. You guys don't."

"He's the _Riddler_ ," said Wally, almost in hysterics. "The guy drives a green car with question marks on his license plates!"

"By that logic, Joker must be a happy, stupid clown!"

"Robin," said Artemis, "Lay off."

"I'm sorry, okay?" said Wally, hurt.

Robin took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his face. "I know. I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have–You just need to take this seriously."

"This is _so_ not what I expected when Batman said he had a mission for us," Wally groaned.

Robin slumped. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

"I do not believe any one of us could have foreseen what Batman's mission would entail," said Kaldur. "Frankly, I find it unsettling imagining Robin in a fight with any one of these villains."

Connor nodded his head with a jerk.

"All those times we went on missions without you," said M'gann, "because you were off with Batman. All this time... you've been fighting this."

"Not all at once," said Robin. "Usually its only one crazy at a time. Sometimes two."

"Usually," said Artemis.

"The good thing about Gotham villains is that they don't usually work well with others."

"And what about the exceptions?" asked Artemis.

"Come on, Arty," said Robin. "Your lack of confidence in my abilities is starting to hurt."

"That's not what I–" Artemis took a deep breath. "Of course I'm confident in what you can do. But these monsters you fight..."

Robin shot her a cocky grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm not dead yet." He marched to the next door and instructed Gordon to open Bay Fifteen.

"A feat that we are all grateful for, my friend," said Kaldur softly.

Wally let out a long breath as he lingered behind with the others. "It really puts it all into perspective, doesn't it? He's been doing this longer than any of us."

Connor started. He hadn't known that. "How long?" he asked.

"Five years," said Wally quietly.

M'gann's eyes widened. " _Five_? But he's–He's not even–How old _is_ Robin?"

"Fourteen."

"What?" Artemis hissed. "Are you freaking kidding me? He's only–But that means–"

"He officially became Robin when he was nine," said Wally. "He was thirteen when you met him."

"What the hell was Batman thinking?" asked Artemis.

"It was Rob's decision," said Wally.

"What did Robin's parents think about it?" asked M'gann.

Wally didn't answer.

M'gann clapped a hand over her mouth. "Do they even know?"

"Guys," Robin called, annoyed, standing in the open doorway.

Wally sped to Robin's side, eager to get away from M'gann's compromising questions. He skidded to a stop when he saw who was in the next room.

The rest of the team caught up, and the door closed behind them.

Poison Ivy stood with a hand on her curved hip, her red hair in dark contrast with her green tinged skin. She was intoxicating to look at. Kaldur averted his eyes, but Wally found no such strength.

Robin stared. She stared back.

"Harley sends her regards," said Robin.

Ivy blinked. A smile curled her green lips. "Thanks for the message, Wonder Boy." Her voice was low, sultrous.

Nobody moved.

She sighed. "Move along. You're here for the psychotic creep, not me. I'd rather not be an animal in a zoo for you and your pesky friends."

Robin hesitated. "You know why we're here."

A thin eyebrow was raised. "People talk."

Ivy couldn't have seen much of 'people' recently. "Guards?"

"Does it matter?" she asked, sounding bored.

It didn't. She'd escaped Arkham multiple times by seducing the guards, Robin would bet it worked just as well to get information. They moved forward.

"Oh, and Robin," Ivy called. "Whatever Harley asked you to say to the clown? Keep it to yourself."

The door shut behind them.

Connor blinked. "She was..."

Wally nodded dumbly. "Yeah."

"That was almost pleasant," said Artemis.

"She didn't threaten Robin with bodily harm," said M'gann.

"A welcome change," said Kaldur.

Robin scoffed. "She can be worse than a lot of the villains here put together with the right motivation." There were only three things that motivated Ivy: nature, her only friend Harley, and her rivalry with Batman. The team didn't need to know about the time she'd nearly killed Robin with a plant toxin just to piss Batman off.

"We're only a few cells away from Joker, now," said Robin. "Gordon, Bay Sixteen."

He froze in the doorway of the next cell. It was Slade Wilson. Deathstroke the Terminator. Batman had been in the game a lot longer than Robin, so most of the villains in Arkham were Batman's, and Robin's by proxy. Deathstroke was one of Robin's villains. Slade was the reason Robin had been to Arkham once before. Robin had caught him, and Batman had respectfully designated him to be the one to take him to the Asylum. It had been a rare circumstance–Robin doubted that he could take the assassin down again.

He found it discomforting, looking into Slade's one good eye. He was usually only faced with the black and gold mask. "Slade," he said.

"Robin," said Slade. The man was certainly holding a grudge. The hate in his voice was palpable, and Wally was instantly on alert. This was not a place to linger.

' _Uh, Rob,_ ' said Wally, ' _what ever happened to the whole 'do not engage' thing?'_

"I'll be honest," said Slade, "I didn't expect to see you so soon. I fully intended our next meeting to end with my hands around your throat."

The team all tensed, but Robin didn't react.

"Or a sword in your spine. Whichever you prefer."

"I'm flattered you're giving me the option."

' _Time to go, Rob_ ' said Wally, uneasy.

' _I believe we should listen to Kid Flash_ ,' said Kaldur.

"Your death will be swift," said Slade. " _After_ I break every bone in your body."

"That is enough," said Kaldur, stepping forward.

Slade smirked. "Hide behind your friends, Robin. Perhaps, when I do get out of here and find you, I'll let them watch."

Teeth bared, Robin advanced toward the glass. "You won't go anywhere near them."

' _Get him out of here,_ ' Artemis insisted.

Wally pulled Robin towards the door.

' _Open the door,_ ' said Connor.

' _Robin, open the door_ ,' said M'gann.

"Gordon," said Robin, glaring daggers at Slade, "Bay Seventeen."

They pulled Robin through the doorway and it shut behind them.

"Dude," said Wally, shoving Robin's shoulder. "What the hell?"

Robin's whole body was tense. The walk through Arkham was getting to him.

"Batman sent us with you for a reason, Rob. You can't let these guys get to you. Stay traught, remember?"

"I am traught," Robin snapped.

"You're not. Maybe we should stay here for a minute."

"I'm all for that," said Artemis.

"I think we could all do with a rest," said Kaldur.

Seeing his friends' weary faces, Robin relaxed slightly. "Fine."

Wally let out a sigh of relief.

"I don't understand," said Connor, angry. "We're not even fighting. Why is this so–"

"Stressful?" finished M'gann.

Connor nodded.

"I know, I'd much rather be off fighting somewhere," said Artemis. "This is insane."

"Nice choice of words," Wally grumbled.

"It's conflict without relief," said Robin.

Wally kicked the wall. "I guess you never really appreciate what a release it is just to punch the bad guy in the face."

"But why am I tired?" asked Connor.

"Stress does that to you," said Robin.

"I don't like it."

Robin blinked. Then he threw his head back and barked out a laugh.

"You have a strange sense of humor," said Artemis, shaking her head.

"So I've been told."

"You're not like him," said Wally suddenly. Robin met his gaze. "The Riddler."

Robin snorted. "Thanks for clarifying."

"I mean it."

"I know," said Robin. "And I know I'm not."

"Good."

" _Robin,_ " came Gordon's voice from the boy's comm. " _Is everything all right?_ "

Robin brought a hand to his ear. "Everything's fine, Commish. We're ready for Bay Eighteen."

The next room held Bane. The man who broke Batman's back. Robin didn't think he'd ever stop being afraid of him.

The muscled man was sitting on his cot. His beady eyes instantly found Robin. He didn't speak. The team moved forward. Those cold eyes tracked their every move. Every step they took closer to the next door, they waited for him to move, speak, something.

"Gordon, Bay Nineteen."

The door hissed open, and Wally let out a breath.

"Wait, niños," came Bane's deep voice. "Tell the bat. Next time, I break el pájaro."

Robin stiffened. Bane's chuckle rang in their ears as the door closed behind them.

"What did he say?" asked Connor.

"Nothing," said Robin, taking a shaking step forward. "We need to keep going."

"Who knows Spanish?" asked Wally, eyes narrowed.

"There's only one more cell between here and the Joker," said Robin.

"What? Really?" asked Wally.

"Finally," said Artemis, stretching her back. "I feel like we've been here for hours."

"Who's the other prisoner?" asked M'gann.

Robin sent a discreet look to his best friend before averting his eyes. "Two Face."

Wally went ashen. "What?"

"You heard me," said Robin.

"Rob..."

"I know," said Robin. "Gordon. Bay Twenty."

Two Face was at the glass waiting for them. "The Bat's secret weapon," he said, looking Robin up and down. Greed pooled in his eyes.

M'gann cried out as Two Face's hungry thoughts overpowered her and an image flashed through their minds of a much younger Robin, staring forward defiantly with his hands tied behind his back. Another image, tinted with rage–Robin being beat to hell with fists and knees and boots–blood–a baseball bat being raised– M'gann gasped as Two Face's memories were pushed aside by the strength of Robin's–blows raining down upon him–blood was dripping into his eyes–he had to buy time for Batman to escape–the baseball bat came down–

Robin stumbled backwards, his eyes wide–

Two Face looked shocked, too, and Robin realized that M'gann had projected not just into the minds of the team, but Two Face's as well. Dent took a deep breath through his nose, as if he were breathing clean air for the first time in years. His eyes burned with desire and madness.

Connor stepped in front of Robin, blocking him from view. "Go," he said.

Kaldur put his arm around a groaning M'gann as she clutched at her head, struggling to keep more images from overtaking her. A flash of memory slipped through–Two Face's or Robin's, she wasn't sure–a cruel hand tangled in Robin's black hair, holding the nearly unconscious boy up, blood pouring from his nose as he gasped and struggled for breath–

"You've gotta tell Gordon to open the door, Rob," urged Wally, the panic audible in his voice. "C'mon, Bud, snap out of it!"

Robin pressed his comm. "Bay Twenty-One."

The door hissed open.

" _Robin. What happened? Do you need backup? I didn't see anything on the monitor. What did Dent do?_ _Robin?_ "

Robin swatted at the air by his ear as if there were a mosquito. Wally caught his hand and moved them into the next hall. The door shut.

"Damn-it," said Wally.

"I'm sorry," said M'gann, "I'm so sorry, Robin, I'm sorry–"

Robin didn't even try for a smile. He put a hand to his ear. "Stop shouting, Gordon. I'm fine."

Wally rounded on the Martian. "Can't you get a hold of your powers?"

"Wally!" cried Artemis.

"She didn't mean to," said Connor.

"Rob already had to live through that once," Wally continued, undeterred, harsh.

"That is enough, Kid," admonished Kaldur, even as he looked Robin over.

"We shouldn't have had to see that," said Wally, and his voice cracked. "We shouldn't... My best friend was... "

"KF," said Robin, "that happened years ago. Do I look like Two Face just took a bat to my head?"

Wally flinched violently.

"Sorry," said Robin, wincing. "That was... in poor taste. I'm okay, Walls."

Wally looked at the floor.

Robin turned to the Martian. "M'gann," he said, reluctant. "This thing that keeps happening…"

"I'm sorry," M'gann said again, sniffling. "I swear I'll get it under control."

Robin let out a sigh. "Joker's mind is a lot stronger than Two Face's. And a lot scarier. Maybe you should stay in here."

"What?" asked M'gann. "No, Robin, I want to come!"

"Maybe you should all stay in here."

A strangled noise tore unbidden from Wally's throat. "No freaking way!" He looked incredulously at his best friend. "You're kidding, right?"

"I would not feel comfortable leaving you alone in a room with the Joker," said Kaldur.

"He won't be able to do anything," said Robin.

"That's not the point," said Artemis.

Connor narrowed his eyes. "Batman wanted us with you."

"Screw Batman, _I_ want us with you," said Wally. "After what happened with Two Face–"

"That wouldn't have happened if it weren't for M'gann's powers," said Robin. "I would have been fine."

"We're coming," said Wally through gritted teeth.

"No, you're not."

Kaldur stepped forward. "Robin. I agreed with your taking point because I believed you would be rational. We will not allow you enter that room alone."

"What happened with the mind link _cannot_ happen with the Joker," said Robin. "His mind could drive you all insane."

"Isn't there an off switch on that thing?" asked Wally.

M'gann frowned. "I could try to barricade my mind from attack, like J'onn has been teaching me. But we won't be able to communicate through the link."

Wally looked at Robin pointedly. "There you go."

"Barricading her mind is something M'gann has yet failed to do," argued Robin.

"Against another telepath," admitted M'gann. "But the Joker is human."

"Debatable."

"We're coming," Wally growled.

"That we are," nodded Kaldur.

"This is stupid," said Robin, but he could feel himself caving.

"We've got your back," said Artemis.

"You're not going alone," growled Connor.

"We wish to be of help to you, Robin," said M'gann.

Robin let out a sigh of defeat. "Gordon," he said, pressing his comm, "Bay Twenty-Two."

" _My men are on standby, Robin. Be careful._ "

"Will do, Commish."

The door hissed and slowly opened.

High, sick laughter assaulted their ears. Robin winced, and the team hesitated in the doorway.

They stepped inside.

M'gann gasped and Wally's breathing hitched.

Countless dead robins were pinned to the white walls of Joker's cell, their wings torn, and their bodies mutilated. How Joker had gotten them into his cell, Robin didn't know. Feathers were discarded on the floor and blood stained the walls.

The man himself approached the glass with a smile too big for his face. Those wide, mad eyes and blood-red lips–the unkempt green hair, the pasty white face–that fanatical laughter ringing in Robin's ears–It all made him lightheaded.

"Welcome, Birdy and Brats," Joker lilted, grinning, his arms open wide, "to my humble abode. Recently renovated. What do you think of the aesthetic? Personally, I think it could use a little more red, but be honest, Wonder Brat, I want your opinion. I did all of this for you, after all."

His team looked horrified. "What do you want?" asked Robin.

Joker pouted. "Oh, don't be like that, Robin, I haven't seen you in ages. You've been off running around with this team of yours leaving me all alone with grumpy old Bats. He's way more fun when you're around. The man can't take a joke."

"Where's the bomb?" asked Robin.

Joker laughed. "As if I'd tell you. I'll keep my word, Boy Blunder: nobody dies as long as you stay for a while."

"Why?"

"To chat. Catch up."

Robin narrowed his eyes. "Okay. Talk."

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?" asked Joker, eyeing the rest of the team. "They don't look happy. I get the feeling that they don't like me very much." His eyes found Wally who looked very much like he wanted to punch something. "Flash Boy. You're Robbie's best pal. It's about time we met, officially. I'm the one who likes to beat your friend with a crowbar."

Wally clenched his jaw.

"Robin must have mentioned me," said Joker, looking disappointed. "We've had so many good times together. I know all about you, of course. You're one of the brats that stole my bird away from Gotham."

"Joker," hissed Robin.

Joker raised his brow. "So sensitive. Fine. We'll talk about something else." He examined Wally again, his grin growing. "Oh, this one _really_ doesn't like me. What, don't appreciate the decor? I don't care. It's for Robin, anyway, not you. Or maybe it was the comment about the crowbar. Did that upset you? That's right. Robin gets his own, personal crowbar, reserved for exclusive use on the Bat's bird. Sometimes I wonder if Two Face didn't have the right idea–with the baseball bat–the blood makes the crowbar all slippery. But blood doesn't wash out of wood. Oh, the decisions and sacrifices I've had to make."

M'gann's face was pale past the point of living. Artemis looked sick. Superboy shook with fury while Aqualad looked physically pained.

That's right, thought Robin, the four of them hadn't known about Robin's history with Joker like Wally had. This had to be about the worst way to find out.

Joker returned his attention to Robin. "How is Dent, anyway? And Sardine Breath? The deal was to chat, Robin. You'd better start having some input, or I might just lose my temper."

Robin growled. "Dent and Penguin are as they should be. Miserable and alone, locked away, just like you."

Joker's smile dropped from his face. "That wasn't very nice, Robin."

"I'm chatting."

A tense silence, then Joker laughed. "What did I say? Way more fun than Batsy. I told Two Face that killing you was a bit rushed. I've had loads of opportunities to kill you. Sometimes, I think to myself, I should just get it over with. Life would be so much _easier_ if you were dead. But the problem is, you're too much fun to kill off. And, if I killed you, I wouldn't get to hear my favorite song ever again, and that would just be tragic." He turned to Wally and smirked. "After all, screams are music to my ears."

Wally flinched.

"Will you scream for me, Robin?" asked Joker. "I'm sorry I can't supply you with much motivation from here–they confiscated my crowbar. And my knives. Plus, there's this glass," he said, tapping the bullet-proof glass with an annoyed roll of his eyes. "Otherwise, I wouldn't bother asking. We both know I don't really _need_ my toys to make music, after all."

Robin had the sudden childish urge to call Batman. He pushed it down.

"No? Well, worth a shot. Get it? Ha! A shot! You know I've never been a big fan of guns. They're too quick."

"What is the point of this?" asked Robin.

"Temper, temper, little bird," tutted Joker with a shake of his head. "I thought I'd taught you manners. The last lesson seems to have worn off. Tell you what, next time I visit, we can have another lesson. Free of charge."

"There won't be a next time," said Connor.

Joker whistled. "Who knew Supes had a protective streak? I suppose it only makes sense, you being the clone of Superman. He and Batman have always been close. Is this a parallel? Not quite. I think Flash Boy has Superman's place at the side of this bat. Sorry, Supes, you've been replaced."

"That's enough," said Robin.

"Who's Blondie?" asked Joker. "She doesn't look happy. Neither does Green Bean. Such grumpy friends, Robin. I don't approve. They all have to go."

Robin stiffened. "You won't touch them."

"What do you know? Robbie has a protective streak, too, and not just for Batman. It's fine. You've called my bluff, Boy Wonder. I don't care about your team. I don't go around randomly killing people, that would be insane. I only kill people when it's funny."

" _Everything all right in there, Robin?_ "

Without taking his eyes off the Joker, Robin brought a hand to his ear. "We're good, Gordon. He says he just wants to talk."

Joker's eyes lit up. "Is that the Commish? Oh, I bet he hates this. He always did have a soft spot for you, Birdy. You should have seen his face when I made my demands. He wasn't having it. And yet, here you are. He made the smart choice. He saved lives."

"How would you detonate the bomb?"

"You're asking the wrong questions, Wonder Boy." A chill went up Robin's spine. "What should we talk about next?" asked Joker, clapping his hands together in glee. "How's school?"

"You're stalling."

Wally glanced at him as Robin mentally reevaluated the situation. "What's up, Rob?"

"Something's not right."

"Nothing's right about his place," muttered Artemis.

Robin thought back. Harley had known Joker had called him, but they had probably planned it together before they even arrived in Arkham. Ivy had known, but probably from the guards' loose tongues.

Robin's eyes widened, and his heart sped up. "The birds," he said.

Joker cackled. "Right you are, Boy-o!"

"The detonator is inside one of the birds," said Robin, frantically scanning the walls. His heart sank. He brought a hand to his ear. "Gordon, you have to open Joker's cell."

" _What? Robin, are you insane?_ "

"It was part of his deal," said Robin, eyes lingering on each bird as he searched. "The bomb wouldn't go off if I came to Arkham, right? He knew I would shut it down."

"Tic toc, Robin," said Joker.

"Now, Gordon! My team can handle Joker. If I don't get in there, people are going to die." Robin turned to his team. "Miss M," he said, "Be ready to use your powers to hold Joker in a body bind. I don't want him able to touch _anything_. KF, you and I need to search the birds with delicate precision to find the detonator. Artemis and Superboy, back up M'gann. Do not take your eyes off him for a second. Kaldur, here's my comm. Keep in contact with Gordon and monitor the situation."

The bullet proof glass wall began to hiss and lower into the ground. Joker just stood to the side, grinning.

M'gann restrained Joker, lifting him into the air with her powers before the wall was even fully lowered. Robin and KF made steady progress–KF's much faster than Robin's–as they examined the dead birds.

"Joker is restrained and immobile," Kaldur informed Gordon. Robin didn't doubt that the man had already sent a squadron of backup.

"Tell Gordon to contact Batman," Robin ordered while examining a particularly bloated and bloody bird.

Kaldur did so and nodded. "The commissioner says that he already did, Robin."

Robin let out a small breath of relief. With Batman off planet, there was no way he would get there in time to help, but it made him feel better just knowing that the man would be on his way.

"Rob, I found it."

Robin hurried to Wally's side and gently pushed him out of the way. Bomb's were Robin's forte, not KF's. Feeling the body of the bird, there was the distinct outline of an object inside it. He unpinned it from the wall and flipped it over–its underside was slit open and stretched taut around a black, rectangular device. Robin ignored Wally's scrunched nose and Artemis' gagging as he stretched the skin apart to fit his fingers inside the bird to grasp the object.

The fingers of his gloves stained red, Robin carefully extracted the device. He set the empty bird on the ground–Joker had removed its innards to make room for the detonator–it was just skin and feathers now. Hollow.

The silence was heavy as Robin examined the device. He quickly found a back panel and pried it open before connecting his glove into the mechanics. The familiar blue screen lit up in front of him, and his fingers dashed across the board. If he was right, he was sure that the detonator was timed. He had to shut it down before–

"Got it," said Robin.

A collective sigh of relief.

"And there's the trigger," said Joker.

The deactivation of the bomb triggered a cloaked surface program. The pins in the birds began whining as they leaked air from each of the robins' stomachs. They'd been pumped with gas. Their stomachs were small and couldn't hold much, but the sheer number of birds made up for it. Robin felt himself get lightheaded. Wally stumbled sideways into the wall. M'gann lost control with a groan and Joker dropped to the ground.

The clown hummed a happy tune as he placed a gas mask on his face and watched the members of the team drop one by one.

Robin fell to his hands and knees, gasping.

KF cried an unintelligible warning and tried to crawl forward to help–

The Joker kicked sharply into Robin's chest. He was thrown sideways into a roll as he fought for consciousness.

"Rob," rasped Wally as darkness creeped upon his vision.

High, sick, laughter. It rang in their ears as the knock-out gas took full effect and faded the world into darkness.


	2. A Clown's Ammusement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!

It was the smell that woke Wally.

Death. Iron. Salt. Ammonia.

He gagged, and his eyes shot open as he came to the harrowing realization that he couldn't move his arms to cover his nose from the smell.

He was tied to a pillar, arms at his sides, the rope digging just under his ribs. He was in some sort of old shipping containment building filled with crates and overturned coolers of dead fish in the corner. The rafters were high and dark, the light from the large paned windows not quite reaching them.

Wally searched frantically for his team, but as far as he could tell, he was alone–that is, he was the only living being in the building. His eyes quickly found sight of the dead fishermen crew strung up like trophies on chain hooks that disappeared into the rafters. All nine of them hung about two feet off the ground, the hooks lodged through their necks, shoulders, legs, and chests. Their eyes hung open, unseeing, as blood slowly dripped from their cold bodies.

Wally shut his eyes and tried to slow his breathing.

Joker. Joker had done this.

But why was Wally alone? Where was Robin? Where was the team? Where was Batman?

Swallowing back his panic, Wally forced himself to take a deep breath and open his eyes. He was careful to avoid looking at the hanging dead. He focused instead on the thick ropes that wound around both him and one of the building's many support pillars, binding him firmly in place, his feet just touching the floor. After a fierce struggle that left him breathless and hurting, he stopped fighting the ropes. He let out a huff and swallowed hard.

The only thing that gave him comfort was that Batman, at least, was aware that something was wrong. Perhaps the Commissioner was filling him in at that very moment. Wally didn't know how he'd ended up from point A to point B, but he was certain he was no longer in the Asylum.

Their trip to Arkham had been a disaster, and Wally still wasn't quite sure what they had done wrong. He actually wouldn't mind a lecture from Batman for once, if it meant that he would get out of that building and be told that the team was safe. That _Robin_ was–

But his team and the Joker were all M.I.A., and for some reason, Wally was alone.

Alone in a building with nine dead bodies staring at him with hollow eyes.

Wally didn't know much about the Joker, but that had always been perfectly fine with him because the little he did know scared him shitless. Robin was always careful around him when he talked about the Joker. Wally never knew if it was his friend's way of protecting him or his just not liking to talk about it, but whatever it was, Wally had always been selfishly glad. What he saw on the news was enough to make him sick to his stomach thinking of Robin mixed up with a psycho like that.

He could always tell when it was bad in Gotham. Robin would stop doing random flips around the mountain, he would be tired in training (and still beat every single one of them, the sneaky bastard), he would be jumpy and on edge, and his nightmares would come back. Then, he'd miss the next mission call, and Superman would tell them that Batman and Robin had business in Gotham. Wally would be distracted the entire mission, worrying, his friend's absence a heavy weight in the mind-link, and he would inevitably take a nasty hit because of it. And when the mission was a success, none of them would celebrate, not when one of their own was still out there, fighting in the darkness of Gotham. Then Rob would return, injured and stumbling with exhaustion, and Wally would think it too cruel to ask him what happened when he had that haunted look in his eyes.

Later, when Wally was home in Central City, he'd turn on the TV which would be pre-set on the news channel reporting Gotham's latest crime spree, and Wally was sure that his Uncle Barry had been watching, dreading and waiting for a reason to break Batman's number one rule. Wally would want to change the channel to watch his show, like he'd intended, but his fingers would freeze over the remote as the report would echo in his ears about the most recent batch of children's mutilated bodies that had been found at Gotham Pier, but that the culprit had finally been apprehended that evening and sent back to Arkham thanks to the efforts of Batman and Robin. A picture would flash on the screen of the Joker's white face and Wally would turn off the television.

He would hug Robin the next day at the Mountain, and he wouldn't ask questions about the jumpiness or the tremor in those always steady hands. Robin didn't deserve what Gotham did to him, and Gotham sure as hell didn't deserve what Robin did for them.

So Wally didn't ask Robin about the Joker. He got enough of a picture from hearing Rob in the next room over when he had his nightmares, watching the news, and seeing the thunderous faces of his Uncle Barry and Superman when the Joker even feathered into conversation.

Wally's brief encounter with the Joker at the Asylum had done nothing to assuage his fears. Joker talking about his favorite song and Robin's personal crowbar alone was enough to haunt Wally's nightmares for weeks–the dead, vivisected robins had been the final nail in that coffin.

And now Wally was alone.

And Joker probably had Rob.

And his team was who-knew-where.

And the nine bodies dangling in front of him stared into death, their last expressions of horror still etched on their faces.

It started low. Wally thought his ears were still ringing from Joker's drug–a high pitched, eerie belfry that was getting louder–

Wally suddenly felt very cold. The Joker's laugh was not a sound that he would soon forget–or ever. Holy nightmares, how did Robin ever get any sleep at all with that sound on permanent record between his ears?

There was the cacophonous sound of a heavy metal door being slammed open, and Joker's haunting lilt could be heard by all ears, living and dead alike, as it rang throughout the shipping containment building.

"Frère jacquues, frère jacquues, dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?"

Fear racketed through Wally's veins like ice. In a last act of desperation, Wally found himself attempting something very dangerous that his uncle had instructed him never to try without his supervision. He vibrated his very molecules, trying to accomplish something he had yet to do successfully, let alone safely. His last attempt had left him bed-ridden for two days with gut-tearing cramps.

Wally quickly grew lightheaded. It felt like he was trying to rip his body into pieces–which, essentially, was the idea–A bout of nausea had Wally halting his efforts for the purpose of getting a few deep breaths and to spit stray blood from his nose out of his mouth. It coated his lips and dripped from his chin, heavy. Not the worst nosebleed he'd ever gotten, but it was certainly up there with when he ran smack into a wall and that time Rob had punched him in the face. Both had been entirely Wally's fault.

"Sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines, ding, dong, ding. Ding, dong, ding."

Wally tried phasing through the ropes again and failed spectacularly. The danger was very real, but he just couldn't do it. His Uncle Barry had told him it took years before he'd gotten the hang of it, and Wally just didn't have that kind of time.

He wondered if he should feign unconsciousness. The last thing he wanted to do was draw undue attention to himself. He looked down at his suit, feeling a small garnering of comfort that he was still in stealth mode from their trip into Arkham. He felt like he blended into the pillar he was tied to–at least more so than the lightshow that was his normal outfit. It would do nothing to deter the Joker, Wally knew, but it did something for his state of mind, and he would take what he could get. He silently thanked Rob for ordering them to go stealth.

Wally thought of Batman, in his dark suit and cape, and of the villains he'd met in Arkham and how much they hated Robin, and he thought of Rob, in his bright yellow and red alongside the black, calling attention to himself on the dark streets of Gotham like a beacon. He knew Robin could disappear despite the colorful suit–he’d sure done it enough times that Wally could hardly think otherwise–but the thought of the extra attention his friend must get because of his uniform left an unpleasant taste in Wally's mouth.

Robin's suit didn't have a stealth mode. He didn't need it. But when Rob was out in the open, Wally imagined those colors turned into a bright red and yellow target. Images flashed on a reel in his mind of Robin surrounded by vicious, angry, violent men on missions. Wally had never thought much of it before, because Rob took each man down with minimal effort, so he sure hadn't seen a problem with it, but Rob was always more in the thick of it than any of the rest of them. He was the team's heavy hitter. Efficient and quick, Rob could take down more men blindfolded than the rest of the team could on a good day. Still, Wally couldn't help but think that Rob didn't need the extra attention. He was already the poster-boy for kidnapping, and that was when he wasn't in costume.

Footsteps were fast approaching, and Wally's breath got stuck in his throat. Holy Mother this was actually happening. He was alone with the Joker and he was going to die he was going to die hewasgoingtodie–

The footsteps stopped behind his pillar. Wally held his breath.

"You awake yet?" the Joker asked, his voice silk.

Wally's heart stuttered.

"Or are you just puttin' on a show for your Uncle Jay?"

Uncle Jay? But that was what he called–

There was a thud and a quiet moan.

Holy cluster-fuck it was Robin. At Wally's back in Wally's blind spot, his friend was likely tied to the same pillar with the very same rope.

Far from feeling relieved that he wasn't alone, Wally's heart dropped like a stone.

Joker did have Robin.

Joker had _Rob_.

And Wally was utterly helpless to do anything about it.

And he couldn't even _see_ –

"The bird's still out of it. No matter. Flash Boy! Wakey wakey!"

A white face marred his vision and they were nose to nose. "Oh goody! An active party member. The little birdy's not feeling much like participating at the moment. Perhaps I hit him a little too hard."

Wally's fear for his friend found his voice. "What did you do to him?"

Joker straightened, pulling his face away from Wally's. He had changed from his prison garb. He wore the trademark purple suit and green shirt that Wally had only ever seen on the news. "Nothing I haven't done before. Just a little game he and I like to play called 'Goodnight Birdy.' He and the Bat have built up an immunity to the usual stuff. I can normally get my hands on the _good_ stuff, but I was a bit short of it in Arkham. So, when he woke up a little–well, a little _too early_ –I had to improvise. Don't look at me like that, Fleet Feet, once he found out I took you, he wouldn't cooperate."

Wally's shoulders sagged. Rob wasn't supposed to do that. He wasn't supposed to get himself hurt, for Wally's sake.

"It all worked out in the end, though," said Joker, "I wanted to chat with you, without our resident bird."

Wally let the ire rise within him. "Where's the rest of my team?"

"Ah yes," said Joker, sounding bored. "The rest of your little sidekick club. I don't know why Robin puts up with you all. He's miles ahead of the rest of you. He belongs in Gotham, with me."

Wally grit his teeth. "Where are they?"

"Safe. Unharmed." Joker waved a dismissive hand. "They don't interest me."

Wally narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe you."

"You're quite right not to! But they're insignificant. Not worth the trouble it would take to restrain them."

Wally did the math in his head. "You don't have any inhibitor collars."

"Don't need them. Our dear Boy Wonder is only human. He's who I summoned to Arkham, not your team. I don't want them."

That still left a very pressing question, and Wally did not want to ask it, but Robin wasn't awake to get the information they needed. "Why take me, then?"

Joker's face-splitting grin faltered. "You're Robbie's best friend."

Wally had to swallow hard. "What has that got to do with anything?"

"Everything! And nothing!"

Joker was a dangerous combination of a man that had nothing to lose and who had no endgame. He paved his way with destruction while walking backwards. Wally was wasting time questioning Joker on his motives for a choice that could very well have been decided on a whim, simply because his shoes felt too tight that day.

"Now," said Joker as he approached one of the hanging dead and poked its bloated stomach experimentally, "what I want to know is why all of you came to Arkham. I must say I was surprised when Robin showed up with you brats instead of Batman. Has the big, bad, Dark Knight gone on a holiday and left Robin to clean his messes?"

Wally didn't want to answer anything the Joker asked, but he was terrified of what would happen if he didn't. "Batman was busy."

He knew immediately that it had been the wrong thing to say. Fuck everything, he was going to get himself and Robin killed. The Joker's eyes lit up with something akin to fury and his hands fisted in the dead man's bloodstained shirt. He wrenched his shoulders and body sideways before letting go, jerking the body into a graceful arc of a swing as it became a human pendulum. The dark, unseen rafters of the building creaked as the chain groaned with the weight.

The Joker turned his wild eyes to Wally and advanced like a rabid dog. "Busy doing WHAT?" Spit flew from his mouth.

Wally jerked away and hit his head on the pillar at his back. "H-he was off planet!" The words came unbidden from his mouth. His heart pounded. He couldn't think. The dead man kept swinging, back and forth, mouth agape–

Joker was right in front of him, some spittle on his lips and chin, his breath foul. "Is he coming?"

"What?"

"IS HE ON HIS WAY, NOW?"

Wally shut his eyes tight, his ears ringing. "Please," he said, his voice not feeling like his own. "Stop."

A hand struck his jaw, and Wally saw stars as he felt the crunch of a molar come loose and blood flooded his mouth. "You're useless," said Joker. "All of you are USELESS!"

Wally heard the Joker's steps, and when he opened his eyes, the man was gone from his view. Wally's breaths came in rapid bursts as his jaw throbbed. Where had he–?

There was a rustle from behind him. Wally's eyes widened. "No–!"

But Robin mustn't have been bound to the pillar like Wally was, because Joker emerged holding Robin by the R on his chest. Wally's best friend was unconscious, the lenses in his mask mere slits, and his mouth partly open as his head lolled back in the Joker's grip. He looked too much like the dead body that still swung from its chain and Wally let out a small cry. Robin was cape-less and gloveless, his hands bound with rope behind his back.

In a pure act of desperation begot by seeing Robin immobile in Joker's grip, Wally's molecules were vibrating again, violently this time, sending the sharp pains in his jaw to an excruciating level as his blood flow increased and his body burned. A guttural cry burst from his lips with a spurt of blood as he _tried so hard so hard it was actually going to kill him this time good God he was going to die and leave Robin all alone with this madman he was going to die_ –

Wally's chin lolled on his chest. He'd blacked out. He lifted his head and pain lanced through his skull. He opened his eyes and felt them prickle as his nose burned. He'd failed. Again. The ropes binding him were as solid as ever. As impossible as ever.

He couldn't do it.

He looked up and wished his attempt had killed him. He wasn't sure how much time he'd lost, but he'd guess no more than a few seconds. Robin lay prone on the ground, his back arched awkwardly from the hands tied beneath him. Joker placed his feet on opposite sides of the boy so he straddled him and lowered to a kneel. He leaned forward and grasped Robin's jaw with unforgiving fingers. Robin's lips pursed at the pressure. Joker placed his left knee on Robin's chest and slowly pressed down.

"Get off him!"

But it didn't take long. Robin must have been close to consciousness–that or Joker was putting a lot more pressure on Robin's solar plexus than Wally realized–either way, Robin woke with a gasp. The lenses on his mask opened, but Joker did not release his hold on Robin's jaw, nor the pressure on his chest.

Wally saw the panic kick in as Robin's back arched in his attempt to throw the Joker off.

"Let him go," said Wally, struggling against the ropes despite its futility, hating that Robin's motions were sharp and stiff with a panic he'd never seen in his friend before. He had only ever seen the aftermath. He heard the nightmares and he saw the jumpiness. He'd never seen anything like this. He wondered if the nightmares could ever possibly live up to the terror of the real thing. When Robin dreamt, did he smell the Joker's foul breath? Did he feel the stone floor leech the heat from his skin? When Robin jumped at movement in the corner of his eye, did he imagine that he saw a shock of green hair, just for a moment, dancing out of his vision?

Robin was trying to free himself from the iron grip that Joker had on his jaw. His head strained to the side, but the hand held fast, forcing him to look into the Joker's crazed eyes just a foot from his own face.

There was a muffled whine from Robin that Wally was sure he hadn't meant to make as he wrestled with the hand on his face. His feet kicked blindly. He tried to rotate his body under the Joker, to get onto his stomach rather than his back, but the knee holding him in place persisted, and after one last gasp of effort, he stilled.

It was quiet, save for the groaning chain as the dead man swung. Back. Forth. Back.

"Are you all right, KF?"

Wally jumped. Robin hadn't taken his eyes off the Joker, but his voice was calm and composed, nothing like the struggle Wally had just witnessed.

"F-fine."

Robin must've heard something in his voice, because he tried to turn his head to see if Wally was all right, but Joker's hand on his face would not allow it.

"Get the hell off me."

Something warm flooded Wally and he choked a little as relief strangled him. He was no longer the sole one responsible for keeping them alive. It was selfish, and he hated himself for it, but he could breathe again. He wasn't alone anymore, and Robin had dealt with the Joker before. He would know what to do, what to say. Wally felt as the burden lifted from his shoulders and fell onto Robin's, and he was sorry, but he couldn't regret it, because Wally would have gotten them killed.

Joker's ire was forgotten as the grin returned to his face. "Rise and shine!"

"Gerroff," mumbled Robin, his words muffled by Joker's lingering iron hand.

To Wally's surprise, Joker listened. He released Robin's jaw and removed his knee to stand, and when he stood he towered over the Boy Wonder at his feet. Wally didn't like it.

Robin took a few deep breaths before maneuvering himself into a slumped sitting position, his hair drooping over his masked eyes. He easily brought his bound hands beneath himself and forward, so he was no longer restrained from behind but from the front.

"Rob?" asked Wally.

Robin looked up, reassurance on his lips, but the words died as he caught sight of Wally. Too late, Wally remembered that he was covered in his own blood. Robin rolled onto his back and did a kick-up that had him on his feet and launching a side-kick at Joker faster than Wally could comprehend.

"What the hell did you do to him?"

The Joker caught Robin's foot easily.

Robin was still off-balance from the drugs and whatever else the Joker had done to him while Wally had been out. Joker used Robin's momentum to throw him backwards, and Robin tumbled to the floor. With a cry of rage, Robin was back on his feet and charging again. Joker caught him by the sleeve of his uniform and spun to pin him against a stone pillar, his forearm pressing into Robin's throat. There was a fierce struggle with their legs as Robin fought to kick and Joker fought to pin and block. Joker leaned into Robin's neck, cutting off his air. The lenses of Robin's mask widened.

"Rob," cried Wally. "Rob, I did it–It was me–I tried to phase through the ropes!"

Robin stilled.

Joker brought his knee up into Robin's chest. Robin doubled over, gasping, and the clown delivered the coup de grace with a vicious right cross and Robin went down.

"Stop it," said Wally, tugging against his restraints, too afraid to try phasing again. "Please. Please–" _Please don't hurt my friend._

But Robin didn't seem fazed. He was back on his feet and glaring daggers through narrow slits in his mask. "Where's my team?" he demanded.

"My cell in Arkham."

Wally did a double take.

Robin pursed his lips. "How'd we get out of the asylum?"

"Back exit."

"There isn't a back exit."

"I made one."

A pause.

"The dead birds," said Robin. "You had someone on the inside. Who was it?"

"Inconsequential."

"Are they dead?"

"Yes. You know," said Joker, "I've really missed our talks."

"I haven't. Are we still in Gotham?"

"Superman won't hear you."

"Still Gotham, then."

Wally didn't understand what was going on. His face itched where blood was slowly drying. He didn't dare draw attention to himself. Joker was being _compliant_. And Rob was being... very Rob.

"Where's Batman?" Joker asked.

"Not in Gotham. Why'd you take Kid Flash?"

"I thought it would be interesting. Take off your utility belt."

"Untie my hands and I will."

They stared at one another. Sized each other up.

"You've changed the rules of the game, Joker," said Robin. "You've brought Kid Flash into this, and you know that means you've also brought the Flash, which is going to cut our time short."

"We'd best start early, then," said Joker, and something in his voice changed. It sent chills down the back of Wally's neck. "Remove your utility belt or I kill the ginger."

Wally didn't see where the gun came from, but suddenly Joker was holding a small pistol aimed directly at Wally's head.

"Stop!" Robin's composure slipped. He reached down for his belt, awkward with his tied hands. Without it, he wasn't _defenseless_ , but his options did become severely limited. Without his grappling hook, he was grounded. Without his birdarangs, he was forced to enact in close combat. Without his re-breather and antidotes, he was vulnerable to toxins. Without his wire cutters, disabling a bomb became twice as dangerous. Without his smoke bombs, quick escapes in tight scrapes became much more difficult. Wally didn't even know what the hell else was in there, but Robin always seemed prepared for anything.

Without his belt, Robin had to rely entirely on his wits and his body. Of course, he'd been trained for that, but it put him at a severe disadvantage to the Joker who had who-knew-what hiding in that purple suit.

There was a click, and the belt unhooked from Robin's lithe waist. He tossed it to the side.

Joker lowered the gun.

A breath.

And Robin was moving, towards one of the hanging corpses. Wally strained in his ropes. Joker reached into his suit–something silver flashed–Robin reached the body and placed his wrists against the razor hook in the man's stomach. With an almighty yank, the ropes came free and fell to the ground, frayed. Robin cartwheeled to the right, missing the silver knife by mere centimeters. The knife lodged itself into the chest of the dead man with a dull thud.

Robin spun to face Joker, and all was still yet again. Wally didn't dare speak.

"I've missed this," said Joker.

"I haven't," said Robin. "Let Kid Flash go."

"Mmm, no. Because, see, Robin, I've had an idea, and I have to admit, it's a good one, so do listen carefully." Joker pulled a remote from his pocket and held it up. "See this? I've wired a series of small explosives in this building."

"So, you're going to blow us all to hell?" Robin asked hotly.

"Oh, I'll get away just fine," said Joker. "You too, I imagine. The explosives are focused on one support pillar in particular. I doubt the entire building will even collapse. Just a small portion of it. You and I will get away fine. Flash Boy, on the other hand, sadly, will not."

Wally's heart sank.

"If you try to escape, I'll press it," said Joker. " If you fight back, I'll press it. If you try to disarm them, I'll press it. If you try to free him, I'll press it. In that situation, I'm afraid neither of you would make it."

Robin licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. He shifted his weight. "You mean I can't..."

"If you fight back, I'll kill him."

Robin and Joker were still, staring at each other, and Wally knew. He felt bile rise in the back of his throat. "Don't you dare. Rob, you are not allowed to do this."

"It's my decision, KF."

"I can't let you do this," said Wally, his voice cracking. "I won't let you." He vibrated his molecules.

"KF, stop. Stop it!" Robin ran to his friend and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Stop!"

Wally felt fresh, hot blood run from his nose. He saw Robin in front of him, frantic, shouting. He saw Robin slap him hard across the face.

Wally gasped, and the vibrating stopped.

Robin looked thunderous. "Don't do that again."

"Rob you can't," Wally whispered, and he felt a tear slide down his cheek. "Please. Please, don't do this. You can't ask me to… You know I'd do anything for you, Rob, but you can't ask me to sit here and watch while he–"

"I'll be okay."

Wally wanted to believe it.

"I promise I'll be okay."

"Okay is relative, of course," said Joker, sliding a crowbar out of his sleeve.

Robin stiffened.

"Oh goody," said Joker with a smile. "You recognize it."

Wally was going to be sick. He couldn't do this. Was Joker just going to beat on Robin until Batman showed up? And where the hell was Batman, anyway? Where was the Flash? Why the hell wasn't anyone doing anything to stop this? Because Wally couldn't. And he'd never felt more like a failure in his life.


	3. It All Crumbles To Dust

"You're back," said Barry, standing up from where he'd been lounging on the floor of the training room in the Watchtower.

Batman and Superman walked in, looking none the worse for wear despite returning from an off-planet mission that Flash had been assured he wasn't needed for.

Wasn't needed for. They were the ones who had commed him. Oh, it was an accident, they said. We don't actually need you, they said. So, Barry had spent the better part of the last hour sulking on the floor of the training room. He knew he was being childish, but Central City was quiet, Iris was working, and Wally was at the Mountain with his friends. So what if Barry had been excited when he'd gotten the call. So what if the call had been an accident.

But then there was Batman, in his no nonsense, unapologetic voice, saying that he wasn't needed.

Stupid Batman.

Barry and Bruce might be friends, but the Flash and Batman? Flash didn't always like Batman. Batman could be a real dick sometimes.

"I see you've been training hard," said Batman.

Barry felt his face flush. "How did the mission go?"

"Without a hitch."

Barry supposed he shouldn't have been wishing that it would go horribly wrong.

Batman walked right past him, with purpose in his stride, his cape billowing behind him. Barry wondered if he walked like that when he had to go to the bathroom. "Where are you going?"

"Arkham. I'm meeting the team–"

" _What?_ " Barry sped in front of the man and stood in his path. "You're taking the team to Arkham?"

"They're already there," said Batman, forced to a standstill.

"They're already there!"

"Yes."

"Where the hell do you get off, sending them there? What were you thinking!"

A look of concern fell upon Superman's face, and he approached the two of them as they stood toe to toe. "The team is in Arkham?"

"Would you have preferred that I give them permission slips?" asked Batman.

"Yes!" said Barry. "I, for one, would have said no!"

"Flash has a point," said Superman. "It might not be our business what you do with Robin, but the rest of the team–"

"They can handle it."

"That's not for you to decide!" said Barry. "Those people in there–Wally doesn't know how to deal with them! You won't even let Clark and me into Gotham and you send the team to _Arkham Asylum_?" Batman was quiet, and there was a sinking in Barry's stomach. "Bruce."

"I couldn't be there."

"So you sent the _team_?"

"I sent Robin."

Superman softened. "You didn't want him to go alone."

"So, you sent them in because _you_ failed Robin," said Barry. " _You_ couldn't be there, so you sent them instead."

Superman put a hand on Barry's shoulder. "Flash–"

Barry pulled away. "You didn't just send Robin, Batman, you sent M'gann. Sweet M'gann. You sent Kaldur, Artemis, and Connor. You sent _Wally_ , Bruce."

"Connor?"

"Superboy, Clark!" Barry snapped.

Superman flushed.

"And I know Robin is your partner," said Barry, "but you shouldn't have sent him either."

"It had to be done," said Batman. "They're saving lives. I wouldn't have sent Robin unless I had to."

Of all of the things Batman said, Barry believed that. "But why did you have to send the rest of them?" he asked in a soft voice. "You could have asked someone from the League to go with Robin. You could have asked me."

Batman looked away, and Barry realized that, in this, he had won. Didn't that just make him feel all fine and fucking dandy right where his feelings were?

Batman straightened, and he brought a gloved hand to the communicator at his ear. "Commissioner."

Barry looked at Superman whose frown deepened as he listened in on the conversation.

Barry crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

"Understood. I'm on my way." Batman looked at him. Then he reached up and removed his cowl.

Barry put his hands up and took a few steps back. "Whoa, hey, what's going on? What are you doing that for? Stop it. Put that back on." Batman taking off his cowl could only mean bad news. Bad, bad news that Barry didn't want to hear.

"Barry," said Bruce, and now Barry could see his eyes, and he didn't like it. He was friends with Bruce. It was so much easier to be angry with Batman. "There's trouble."

"What do you mean, 'trouble?'" asked Barry, his palms suddenly sweaty. "What trouble could possibly–The bad guys are locked up, right?"

"They've opened Joker's cell."

"They've _what_?"

"There's no time for this." Batman moved around him and began running towards the zeta beam to get back down to Earth.

Barry zipped to his side. "I'm going with you."

"No."

"Wally is there, Bruce. I'm going."

Superman appeared on the other side of Batman.

"Oh, _you're_ definitely not coming," said Bruce, pulling his cowl up.

"It's not just Robin in danger. You no longer have a say," said Superman.

"Oh, please," said Batman, stepping into the zeta tube. "You didn't even know Connor's name."

_"Recognized, Batman 02."_

"He has a point," said Barry before stepping into the tube to follow. "But hey, Batman already broke the rules. And... I know you're worried for Robin."

" _Recognized, Flash 04."_ Barry felt the tingle of the zeta wash over him, and the Hall of Justice materialized before him.

Batman was nowhere to be seen.

"Damn it," said Barry. Batman wouldn't have gone to the Hall, he would have gone to Gotham. He typed into the control panel of the zeta.

" _Requested, Flash 04. Pending... Pending... Pending..."_

"Come on, Bruce," Barry muttered.

" _Request approved."_

The Batcave appeared with a flash and Barry had to staunch the excitement that rose whenever he was permitted to visit. Batman was already climbing into the driver's seat of the Batmobile. Barry sped to the passenger side and sat down before Batman had shut his door.

There was a beeping in the Batmobile. _"Requested, Superman, 01."_

Batman pressed a button on the dashboard. " _Request denied."_

"Bruce," said Barry, exasperated.

"No talking in the Batmobile."

"No way Robin follows that rule."

Batman revved the engine and they sped out of the cave faster than even the Flash was comfortable with. It was different in a car. Cars could crash. And Batman wasn't exactly the safest driver.

"I think I'll run–"

"You'll stay in the car."

The Batmobile beeped. " _Incoming call from: Commissioner Gordon."_

Batman answered the call as they screamed down one of Gotham's streets. It was dark and dirty. Barry didn't like it.

"Commissioner. What's the status?"

There was shouting in the background. When Gordon spoke, his voice was tight with stress. "Batman. Joker's escaped. And there's bad news."

Had that been the good news? That was the shittiest good news Barry had ever heard.

"He took Robin. And the other kid, the fast one."

Barry stiffened.

"And the others?" asked Batman, his voice not betraying what he surely must be feeling. What Barry was feeling.

"The rest of the team have been retrieved. They're not harmed, as far as we can tell, just unconscious. They were locked in Joker's cell. The cell is... Batman, you should see it. I don't know how he did it."

"We're on our way."

"We?"

"The Flash is with me."

"That's probably for the best. When should I expect you?"

"Two minutes. Batman out."

Batman wouldn't look at him. The roar of the engine filled the space between them. Barry folded his arms tight across his chest and looked out the tinted passenger window at the dark streets.

"This shouldn't have happened," said Batman.

"No, it shouldn't have," said Barry. "This is your fault."

"Barry…"

" _Incoming call from: Green Arrow."_

"Damn it, what did Clark do?" said Batman. He answered the call.

"You are dead, Batman. You hear me?"

"Artemis is fine," said Batman.

"Oh, she's fine, is she?" asked Green Arrow. "You know how much I already worry just because she lives in Gotham? So, what, you thought you'd introduce her to all of Gotham's worst villains? Now they know her. Now they'll recognize her!"

"I'm sure they've seen her in the field before."

"No! Because I, unlike you, try to keep my sidekicks away from the raging psychopaths!"

"Is that Batman?" another voice asked in the background.

"Yeah, it's Batman," said Green Arrow.

"Tell him I hate him."

"Aquaman hates you."

Batman grimaced. "Tell Aquaman that Aqualad is fine."

"He says Aqualad is fine."

An angry voice in the background.

"Yeah, that's not going to cut it, Batman," said Green Arrow. "He's pissed. I'm pissed. Where are you? We're going to come pick them up."

" _Call from: Martian Manhunter."_

"You can pick them up at the Mountain," said Batman.

Barry pressed the answer call button. Batman spared him a glare before returning his eyes to the road.

"You had better have good reason for sending M'gann into Arkham."

"Is that Martian Manhunter?" asked Green Arrow.

"Greetings, Arrow."

"Tell him I said hi," said Aquaman.

"Aquaman says hi."

"M'gann is young, but she is strong," said Martian Manhunter. "With her mental abilities, I fear what effects being in a place with such warped minds may have."

"Yeah, minds like the Joker's," Barry muttered sullenly.

"Is that the Flash?" asked Green Arrow. "Is he in the Batmobile? You've never given me a ride in the Batmobile."

"Me either."

"Aquaman says him either."

"I'm hanging up," said Batman.

"Wait!" Green Arrow called. "They're okay? You said... They're all okay, right?"

Batman pressed his lips together.

"Batman?"

"Joker, Robin, and Kid Flash are M.I.A.."

None of them had anything to say to that.

Batman ended the call. "We're here."

So they were. Arkham was a fortress. Barry couldn't imagine anyone ever being able to escape from there–that is, if it weren't for the giant hole blasted in the side of it. Big chunks of concrete and rebar and metal were strewn around the opening.

"Damn it," said Batman.

Barry thought that Batman was swearing because of the hole in the wall, but when he followed the Dark Knight's line of sight, he barked out a short, hysterical laugh.

Superman was floating above them.

"I told him not to come."

"Yeah, well," said Barry, opening his door and stepping out, "he must be really worried about Superboy." He slammed the door shut.

The three of them entered Arkham through the hole in the wall, and Barry instantly felt the urge to be sick.

They were inside what must have been Joker's cell, once. Mixed with the rubble and strewn across the ground, and a few still pinned to the walls, were dead, mutilated birds.

"Are those...?" Barry asked.

"Robins," said Batman, and there was a tight quality in his voice that scared Barry.

Guards were milling about everywhere, and over in the corner, sitting against the wall looking shaken and weary, were M'gann, Kaldur, Connor, and Artemis.

Barry couldn't stop looking at what was left of the team as Gordon briefed them. M'gann had silent tears running down her cheeks as she stared forward at nothing. Connor's entire body was stiff and tense. Artemis was white as a sheet, and Kaldur was leaning forward with his head in his hands.

"Robin stopped the bomb," Gordon was saying, "but he was taken down in the process. Joker had people on the inside. Someone smuggled in those birds, and someone took out this wall from the other side. They got away in an unidentified chopper."

"Why did he not take all of us?" asked Kaldur, unmoving from his place on the floor.

"You were not his target," said Batman.

Kaldur looked up. "Robin."

Batman nodded.

"But why did he take Kid Flash?" asked M'gann.

Batman didn't answer, and Barry realized that he didn't know. That scared him more than anything.

"The four of you will return to Mount Justice," said Batman. "Your mentors will be waiting for you there."

The teen heroes stood. "We want to help," said Kaldur.

"We will handle it," said Batman.

"This isn't fair," said Superboy. "They're our teammates!"

"We're done here." Batman turned to Gordon. "I need to speak with her before we leave."

The Commissioner looked grim and nodded. The two left, leaving through a massive sliding door.

"This has all just been one big nightmare," said Artemis, watching them go. "God, I don't know how Robin does it."

"You weren't prepared for this," said Superman. "The League is not happy with Batman's decision here, today. "

"I'm glad he sent us," said Connor. "Otherwise, Robin would have come here alone. We're supposed to have his back. It's our job as his teammates. And his friends."

"Two of your teammates are missing," said Barry, and his voice cracked. "Kid doesn't know how to deal with someone like the Joker."

"Robin does," said Artemis. "And he would never let anything happen to KF."

Wally's voice was hoarse. Time had lost its weight. It was inconsequential. Time couldn't measure pain.

"Please, stop!" said Wally. " _Stop_!"

His words were automatic by this point. His tears. His gasps. His screams on his friend's behalf. The Joker hadn't responded in a long while.

Joker was enraptured, and Robin was...

"Please," said Wally with a light breath. "Please." He wasn't even sure who he was pleading to anymore. The Joker? God? His whole body shook with tremors, and the taste of blood lingered in his mouth. His throat and lungs ached from his gasps that wrought his entire body.

Wally was crying like a baby. Not even an acceptable, stoic kind of cry, with a single manly superhero tear. It was a loud, ugly, fat-tears kind of cry with snot and saliva that made his face hurt and his abdomen burn.

True to his word, Robin hadn't tried to escape. He hadn't tried to fight back. He hadn't done anything. And Wally hated him.

It was such a strange feeling to associate with his best friend. He'd never imagined that he could _ever_ feel hate for Robin. But he hated him. At least, a part of him did. The part of him that was being forced to watch. The part that knew Robin could have escaped, if he had just left Wally behind.

And he hated Commissioner Gordon for ever summoning Robin to Arkham in the first place.

And he hated Batman and the Flash, and every other member of the Justice League, because where were they? Why the hell weren't they there?

And he hated his team members. Just because. Because they weren't there being forced to watch, too? Because they were, for whatever logic of the Joker's, spared from this?

The Joker paused with the crowbar held high over his head. He looked at Wally, grinned, and brought it down hard.

Robin cried out, and Wally flinched.

Robin was curled up in a ball on the floor. There was an alarming amount of blood on Robin's face from the combination of a bloody nose and a gash on his temple, but other than that, blood was scarce. The majority of the Joker's damage would be done in bruising. Internal injuries. Broken bones. Wally didn't know what kind of damage Robin had taken, but he'd seen it. He'd heard it. Were they on the clock? An internal bleed could be well on its way to killing him already. What if they were rescued, only for Rob to die of some damage on the inside? Damage that Wally couldn't see. Damage that Wally couldn't even know existed. Damage that Wally couldn't fix.

He could wrap Rob's ribs. He could splint an arm. He could carry him out of there. But he couldn't fix a ruptured spleen.

Not that he could do any of that while he was tied to a pillar.

The Joker paused in his assault to wipe sweat from his brow. "How embarrassing," he said, short of breath. "I meant to pace myself. It's just been so long. I got a little carried away." He let the crowbar fall to the floor where it spattered spots of blood, echoing in the empty space. "But I do want him alive when Batman gets here."

 _And the Flash_. Because Wally would bet his left leg that Barry would be coming whether Batman allowed it or not.

Joker looked down at Robin with a hungry look in his eye, and Wally fidgeted in discomfort.

With a few slow, heavy breaths, Rob rolled onto his back to look up at the Joker. He spat out some blood to the side and smirked. It looked like a dare.

Joker seemed to inflate. His eyes bulged, and his grin stalled. Then, in one violent, fluid movement, he grabbed Robin by the front of his uniform and jerked him to his knees. Joker loomed over him with madness in his eyes.

Robin still had that smirk on his face. Wally wanted to yell at Rob to get a fucking grip on himself, but the air had turned electric, and he feared that any words might drive Joker over the edge.

The two of them stayed like that for a while. Staring. Joker's hands still clenched in the front of Robin's uniform, Robin fearfully unsteady on his knees–

Very slowly, with shaking hands and an amount of effort that Wally didn't understand, the Joker released his hold on Rob's uniform. His hands creeped upward slowly, as though they itched to wrap around his throat. Robin's adam's apple bobbed. The Joker clenched his hands into fists and brought them down to his sides.

Then he backhanded Robin with an iron fist.

Robin fell.

Joker left.

The echo of the door shutting rang around them.

The eyes of the dead watched them.

Wally wanted to speak. He needed to know if Robin was okay.

But he couldn't find his voice.


	4. Never A Victory

The Joker had left.

He had _left_.

Wally knew that he wouldn't be gone for long, but he would take his miracles where he could get them.

Robin groaned from his spot on the floor and tensed as he moved to sit up. He brought his hand to his ribs as he winced, and his breath caught in his throat. " _So_ not asterous."

"Rob." Wally didn't recognize his own voice. It was scratchy and rough, and an octave or two higher than normal.

Robin turned to look at Wally and grimaced. He lifted his hand to the side of his head, gingerly probing the area that was sticky with blood. "Ow."

" _Rob_."

"Don't worry, KF," said Robin as he slowly sat up, unsteady and cradling his left arm to his chest. "I'll get us out of here."

"God, Rob, can you even _walk_?"

Robin froze as his breathing hitched. He shut his eyes and took several deep breaths.

"Robin?"

"Just... gimme a sec."

Wally glanced in the direction that Joker had left. "Sure, buddy," he said, trying to muster up something that sounded like encouragement. The seconds stretched, and still Robin didn't move. "Rob?"

"Hm?"

Wally tried not to think about how tight his friend's voice was. "You okay?"

"I'm always okay, Wally."

Wally's heart dropped. Robin never screwed up with identities in the field. "Yeah, I know," he said, his mouth dry. "I know you are."

Robin maneuvered his feet under him and slowly stood. He listed to the side, and Wally was sure that he would fall over, but he caught his balance at the last second and allowed himself a small, triumphant grin. He looked to Wally, as if expecting praise, and his grin faded. "You look... KF, you look awful."

Wally couldn't bring himself to speak. He felt numb. He felt sick.

"Don't you go into shock on me, Walls," said Robin, limping forward. "I need you mobile."

"I'm a little tied up at the moment," he snapped, some fire returning to his voice.

"Touchy."

"I'm so far from mobile, Rob!"

Robin laughed.

"That's it," said Wally. "We're no longer friends."

"Cool it, KF. I'm gonna get you free."

"How? You're not exactly running on all cylinders! And you can't tell me you are, not after..."

Robin finally made it to his destination. With astounding effort, he bent down and retrieved his utility belt from the floor. "By making the Joker emotionally compromised."

"By making him _what_?"

"He didn't take my belt. Oh, he is gonna be _pissed_."

There was a sinking in Wally's gut. "Did you know this would happen?"

"Self-control isn't one of his strong suits," said Robin, rummaging in one of the belt's pockets. "Plus, at the rate he was going, he would've killed me before Batman ever got here, and he doesn't want that."

Wally sagged in his bindings and hit his head on the pillar behind him. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."

Robin pulled a small, black box from his belt. "And we have liftoff," he muttered. Seeing Wally's look of confusion, he held it up. "EMP emitter. Batman gave it to me after the Red's attacked, remember?"

As if that wasn't one of their missions that still gave Wally nightmares.

Wally shoved the image of his best friend drowning out of his head, but the reality in front of him wasn't much better. Robin looked like he was about to keel over. Bruises were starting to darken, and the purple tones paired with Robin's pale pallor made him look ghostly. His fingers shook as he fiddled with the device.

"That won't shut down the bombs," said Wally.

"It'll shut down the detonator. Then all I have to do is get you free."

"All you have to–? We still have to escape!"

"I'm not walking out of here, KF," and there, there was the tremor that confirmed how shitty Rob was feeling. "Which is why it'll be up to you."

"What? But I'm not–"

And then Rob got that smile on his face that always made Wally feel just a little bit uncomfortable, because it was so open and so caring, and it made Rob look so very young. "I trust you, KF."

Wally felt his face grow hot. It always threw him for a loop when Robin looked at him like he was some kind of hero. And yeah, he _was_ a hero, but he wasn't supposed to be a hero to _Robin_. They were friends. Teammates. It was a dynamic that Wally had struggled with, at first, because Robin had been _his_ hero.

Robin had been the first. He’d been who inspired Wally to become a hero in the first place–other than the Flash, of course. And then Wally had met him, and he'd held him in even higher regard because watching Rob fight up close put anything Wally had heard about to shame. Robin had been in the gig for _years_ before Wally joined, and he did it all without superpowers.

And now, in a situation where Wally had done absolutely nothing even remotely helpful, Robin was looking to _him_. Wally had been useless since the whole debacle had started. He'd been useless in Arkham. He'd been useless in his attempts at handling the situation before Robin woke up. He'd been useless as he watched his friend get beaten. And he was useless now.

Even beaten half to hell, Robin was still getting them out. Robin was doing all the work. Robin was the one fighting.

Wally would be the one running.

But if he could get both him and Robin out of there by running, it would be worth it, wouldn't it? Or would it be the coward's way out? But who cared about that when it was weighed against survival?

Wally sure as hell didn't.

If running made him a coward, whoopdi-fucking-do, he'd take it.

And if it made him a hero...

Well, he wasn't sure what he thought about that.

"You're right on time, B-Man," said Harley from her handstand as she smiled up at Batman with the tips of her colored hair touching the floor.

"Where are they?"

"Somebody's grumpy."

"I know you know, Harley," said Batman.

Harley rolled her legs forward until her feet touched the ground by her hands and she was looking at Batman through her legs. Handstand turned to standing as she lifted her upper body until her back faced him. "Sure thing," she said, fixing her hair before looking at him over her shoulder. "Let's also skip the part where I say I'm not tellin ya where Jay is. Wow, that made things a lot faster. Thanks for visiting, come back soon." She turned away and stretched her arms and waist by leaning to one side and then the other.

Batman clenched his teeth. He took a deep breath. "Harley."

She bent forward to touch her toes and he was left with a very prominent view of her backside.

He didn't have time for this. "You owe me."

She righted herself and stormed to the glass, shaking a finger at him. "I don't owe you nothin! "

"Fine, not me," said Batman. "Robin."

"Don't make me laugh."

"He saved your life."

"Did not!"

"You would have been crushed."

"So?" said Harley. "You think that means I got some dept to repay? News flash, Batman," a grin stretched across her face, and her eyes darkened, "I'm not a nice person." She sat down and spread her legs wide apart. She leaned to her left and touched her nose to her knee. "You ain't gonna guilt me inta tellin you nothin."

Batman took a gamble. "Joker didn't just take Robin. He took Kid Flash."

"The flunky red-head?" She shrugged. "So, he wavered from the plan. What should I care? If it makes Jay happy."

"And is he?"

Harley narrowed her eyes. "Is he what?"

"Happy?"

She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "I wouldn't know, would I? I'm locked up in here, all by my lonesome." She tilted her head and smirked. "Although, I have to admit, seven visitors in one day? I feel like the pretty girl at the dance."

Batman clenched his hands into fists.

Harley looked unimpressed. "Don't get the wrong idea, Batsy, you are _so_ not my date. Jay is busy so I'm goin stag. You shoulda seen how excited he was for his date with Robin! He spent hours pickin out the outfit. I ain't seen him this excited in ages."

"So he's... happy."

"Again with that?" said Harley, glaring. "I said, how would I know? Sheesh! Fer bein a detective, yer sure not a good listener."

"If you were to guess."

"Fine! Sure, he's happy! He's Mista Jolly and he's got rainbows comin outta his ass! Screw you, Batman! You think it's fun, goin to a dance stag? I bet Jay is havin the time of his life while I'm in here, stuck with you, yeh big jerk!" Harley stood and sniffed.

"You helped him plan, even though you couldn't be there?"

"O' course I did," she snapped. "All I care about is makin him happy! And then you had ta go and _ruin it_!"

"You're going to tell me where they are."

"Like hell I am!"

"You'll do it to protect him."

Harley froze. She bit her lip. "He don't need protectin."

"You know what Joker is doing to Robin?"

She pursed her lips.

"Then you know that if I don't find them, Robin will die."

"Killin Robbie ain't part o' the plan."

"Neither was taking Kid Flash."

Harley faltered.

"You know him, Harley. You know him better than anyone. So you know that if there's no one there to stop him, he won't be able to stop himself."

Harley averted her eyes. "Why should I care if the kid dies?"

"Two reasons," said Batman. "Because you don't hate Robin. And because, if Robin dies... this happiness is gone forever. Even though you'd get to go to the dance with Joker, you won't let it happen because you care more about his happiness than yourself. That is why you will tell me."

Harley drooped. "If I tell you, he ain't gonna be happy with _me_ , though. Why can't I be the one ta make him happy? Just once, I want him ta ask _me_ to the dance. Not you. And not Robbie. Is that too much ta ask?"

"You tell me."

She huffed and wiped her eyes. "Gotham Pier. Shipping containment building fourteen on the edge of the Narrows."

Wally blinked. "That seemed too easy."

"Are you really complaining about things not being difficult enough, KF?" asked Robin as he returned the EMP emitter to his belt, which he reattached around his waist.

"The detonator is kaput?"

Robin pulled out a small knife and limped towards Wally. "Time to get you free. Ready to stretch your legs?"

"Dude, I've been ready since we got here."

And man did Rob look a hell of a lot worse up close. He lifted the knife to the ropes just to the side of Wally's left arm. His trembling hand hovered over the rope, his grip tight. He blinked hard and swallowed. His face went white.

"What's wrong? Rob? Don't you pass out on me now, Buddy."

"'M not gonna pass out..."

"Oh. Good."

"M' gonna be sick..."

And Robin threw up on the floor in front of Wally. He choked and wretched as his shoulders were wracked with tremors. The smell of it mixed with the smell of metal and death and salt.

Then they heard the door bang open.

He was back.

And Robin hadn't cut the ropes.

_Robin hadn't cut the ropes._

"Rob," Wally whispered. "Rob you have to cut me free. The ropes, Rob! Now!"

Robin let out a small whine. "KF, I'm not feeling so good."

Footsteps.

"I know, Buddy," said Wally. "I know you aren't, but you're gonna feel a lot worse if you don't cut me free _right_ _now_."

Getting louder.

Robin tightened his grip on the knife. He began sawing but his hand slipped, and he cut himself. Blood stained the rope. Robin stared at it, mesmerized. He started sawing again, but the blood made the knife slippery–

A bleach-white hand snatched Robin's wrist.

Robin froze, his eyes wide.

Joker slowly pulled Robin's hand away from the ropes.

The knife dropped to the ground, clattering in the puddle of sick.

The rope hadn't been cut.

Robin hadn't been able to do it.

And there was a fury in Joker's eyes that told Wally he wouldn't be able to stop himself this time.

"I told you what would happen," said Joker as he dragged Robin away by the wrist. Robin stumbled. "I warned you. Reap what you sow, and all that. I'll give you a moment to say goodbye–Too late!" Joker triggered the detonator–

And nothing happened.

He pressed the button again. His brow furrowed as he lifted it up to eyelevel to examine it. He pressed it again. Again–again–again–again– "Blast it all!" He threw the device across the room where it smashed on the cement floor. His eyes flicked to Robin's belt in understanding. "You think you can deter me with your little tricks?"

Robin frowned. "You do seem awfully _terred_."

"So I can't explode your friend," said Joker, sounding only mildly disappointed. "But let me tell you, Boy-o, you aren't going to win a fight against me in your state."

"Don't sound so sure."

But all three of them knew Joker was right.

There was a flash of movement from Robin, a burst of smoke, and Robin and Joker disappeared.

Wally could hear the fight, and Robin was not winning.

A grunt of pain.

Laughter.

A thud.

A shout.

And it was over.

When the smoke cleared, Joker stood, and Robin did not.

And then Joker picked up the crowbar.

And it all happened again.

And this time, Robin went limp.

"You're killing him," Wally screamed through his raw throat.

Another hit with the crowbar.

Then everything slowed down. Wally's entire body vibrated at a frequency he'd never been able to achieve before. He was screaming and restrained and then he wasn't. He was tied to the pillar and then he wasn't. They were in the shipping containment building and then they weren't.

Wally clutched Robin tight to his chest as he ran. _Please don't be dead, please don't be dead._ Wally didn't know where he was or where he was going. Gotham was unfamiliar territory to him, but all that mattered was putting as much space between Robin and that madman as he could with what little energy he had left. Phasing through the ropes had severely depleted his reserves, and he could feel himself slowing down. Only when it became dangerous to continue running did he stop.

A dark, filth-ridden street. A drooping bridge. Old buildings with peeling plaster and boarded windows. A sky of black clouds.

Wally carried Robin under the bridge and laid him down with shaking hands. He placed his fingers on Rob's neck and let out a breath of relief when he felt the thrumming of a pulse.

He stood and looked around.

They'd gotten away from Joker.

But he had no idea where they'd ended up, and his reserves were empty.

It looked like they were stuck there.


	5. A Friend In Need

Wally had never spent much time in Gotham. The few times he did visit were to see Rob, and not as Kid Flash but as Wally West. Kid Flash wasn't allowed in Gotham–Wally West hadn't been allowed either, but Bruce and Uncle Barry had eventually softened up. His visits were usually restricted to Wayne Manor. The upper side of Gotham. The _nicer_ side, if Gotham had such a thing. Wally had always thought that all of Gotham was terrible, dark, and scary.

He'd been wrong. This place was worse.

It was filthy and falling apart. The streets looked deserted, but Wally's skin crawled. He felt like there were eyes in the shadows. Watching. Waiting.

He hugged his knees to his chest and slid closer to Robin until their shoulders touched. Rob was propped up on the underside of the half-collapsed bridge. His breathing was steady, but there was a wispy quality to it that Wally didn't like.

Wally’s stomach cramped and twisted in on itself. He grimaced and held his breath until it passed. He'd gone longer with less before. Didn't mean he had to like it. He still remembered overhearing the League discuss how his Uncle Barry had been held in captivity without food for so long that his body had begun eating itself. He'd been half dead when Diana and Clark had found him. The thought scared Wally a little bit, but he wasn't anywhere near close to that stage.

A dirty, crumpled paper wafted by in a warm breeze that tickled his hair. He wished it were colder. Maybe then it wouldn't hurt so much. Numb the pain. Numb Robin's pain.

He looked at his friend and his stomach sank. Even if Batman and The Flash managed to find the building they'd been in, they'd have no way of knowing where they'd gone. Wally didn't even know where they were. Damn it, he'd screwed up big. Robin had trusted him to get them out of there, and instead he'd stranded them somewhere in the dumps of Gotham.

The city of crime. The city of fear. The only city with a place as terrible as Arkham. The only city with villains like _him_.

Robin groaned, and Wally perked up. He scrambled so he was kneeling in front of his friend. "Rob?"

Robin's brow furrowed, and his head rolled against the mortar. "My head..."

"Oh, thank God," said Wally, scooting forward. "Don't move. Just... sit still."

Robin looked around at the dark, underbelly of the bridge. "We got out?"

Wally's throat closed up. "Yeah. We got out."

Robin let out a long breath and tension leeched out of his body. "How'd you do it? I didn't think I’d cut the rope."

"You didn't," said Wally. "I phased through it."

That got Rob's attention. "You did?"

"Yeah," he said, allowing himself a small smile, "I did."

Robin grinned wide. "Way to go, KF. Wait till..." He grunted. "Wait till Flash finds out. Can I be there when you tell him?"

"Rob, if we get outta here, I'll let you be the one to tell him."

Robin frowned and looked around at their hiding spot. "Where are we?"

"Beats me," said Wally with a sigh. "Miles away from the Joker." He viewed his friend with a critical eye. "You okay?"

A short breath of a laugh. "No."

"Yeah," said Wally in a soft voice. "I'm surprised you're awake."

"I've got a high pain tolerance."

"How is it?" asked Wally. "The pain."

"Bearable," said Robin. "You know, if I don't move. Or breathe."

"Breathing isn't optional."

Robin laughed, but Wally hadn't meant it as a joke.

Robin leaned forward, as if to get up, but froze as his entire body stiffened. He grit his teeth and blindly grabbed at Wally's suit, clenching a fist in the fabric. After a long moment, his grip loosened, and Wally felt the form-fitting spandex spring back into place. "Bad idea," said Robin, gingerly resting his back against the bridge support once more. "That hurt more than I thought it would. So, what's the plan?"

Wally blinked.

"As nice as it is to have quality time with my best bud, I'd really like to go home now."

"Rob, I'm all out," said Wally. "I can't run carrying you anymore."

"You'll have to get help, then," said Robin. "If you can't take me with you, then you leave me here."

Anger flared in his gut. "Don't even joke about that."

"KF, I'm not gonna last much longer out here."

"What do you mean?"

Robin managed to look annoyed. "We've talked about this, KF, there's a time and place. I know you're not stupid, so cut it out, would you?"

Wally flinched.

Robin wilted. "Sorry."

"No. You're right. I'm not stupid. I know... I know you're..."

"You need to get help before I die under this shit bridge," he said with a grimace. He rode out a wave of pain and looked up, short on breath. "Man, I imagined my death being waaaay cooler than this."

But they were in Gotham. The darkest, cruelest city Wally had ever met, packed with countless criminals that would just love to find an incapacitated Robin out in the open, defenseless and wounded.

"I can't just leave you here," said Wally.

"If you stay," said Robin, softly, like he knew how hard this was, "there's a good chance help won't get here in time."

"I'm not leaving."

"KF–"

"No."

The lenses in Robin's mask narrowed and he sighed. "You're not making this easy."

Wally stood. "It's like you don't know me." He reached down and snaked his arms under Robin's knees and behind his back.

"Whoa–Hey! What the hell are you doing?"

Wally lifted Robin with straining muscles and grunted at the effort.

"Dude, you just said you can't run while carrying me–"

"So I'll walk."

The incredulous look on Robin's face gave Wally the absurd urge to laugh. It wasn't often that he managed to surprise the Boy Wonder. Score one for Kid Flash. Then Robin's face flushed, and Wally knew better than to comment. Pride was a fickle thing.

"At least put me on your back," said Robin, pointedly not looking at him. "Moron. You'll bear the weight better."

Wally ignored the slight and did as Robin said because, insulting or not, Robin was usually right.

The weight _was_ easier on his back. He'd never been one for lifting weights, anyway. What worried him was that Robin's breathing grew more labored the moment they switched positions. "You okay?" he asked.

"Nothing I can't handle," said Robin through gritted teeth.

"Is it your ribs?"

"We'll have to find a phone," said Robin, ignoring him. "I won't be able to contact Batman on a public line, but Gordon should be able to get a hold of him."

There was a clatter as Wally accidentally kicked an empty, crushed can on the street. "Sorry," he said, wincing, expecting a reprimand, but Robin went tense and silent. Wally froze. He waited. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked for anything that may have put Robin on edge, but he saw nothing but boarded up windows and empty streets.

When Rob spoke, Wally could barely hear him. "Watch your step around here."

Wally swallowed. "Why?"

Robin pointed to a cracked sign at the corner of the street. Vulkar Street.

"Does that mean something to you?" Wally asked. "Do you know where we are?"

"Yeah," said Robin, and the last vestiges of hope drained from Wally's body. "We're in the Narrows."

Bruce was being reckless, and Barry didn't like it. The man was usually cautious. Meticulously planning. And when Joker was involved, even more so. But Robin and Kid Flash were missing, and all bets were off. There wasn't time to _plan_. There wasn't time for _careful_.

They were in the Batmobile, screaming down the road at a terrifying speed, and Barry was sure that Superman was somewhere in the skies above them, despite being ordered to stay behind. Barry would never understand Clark and Bruce's friendship. It seemed that all they did was disagree with each other. Clark and Dick, too–that was another relationship that confused him, because Dick might not be exactly like Bruce, but he carried that same darkness.

The difference between Dick and Bruce was that Dick's darkness wasn't on the surface. With Bruce, what you saw was what you got. With Dick, if you didn't know better or weren't actively looking for it, you could even forget it was there.

Barry remembered the first time he'd felt it. Out of nowhere, a weight had pressed down on the room. Batman's darkness was solid and constant, but Robin's was _heavy_. It was the first time he had seemed distinctly unapproachable to Barry.

The three of them had been working a case. Barry always enjoyed working with Robin–unlike Batman, Robin was a good conversation partner–but this case had not been fun. He hadn't gotten the usual snark or the barbed wit that stung just as soon as it made you smile, he'd gotten a dark, morose Robin carrying a weight on his shoulders that spread to everyone in the room. It had been like working with two Dark Knights, and he had most definitely _not_ enjoyed it. Strangely enough, Batman had been his conversation partner that day. When Batman worried... he didn't get _chatty_ , Bruce was _never_ chatty, but his defenses lowered, marginally. That night, it had manifested in Bruce breaking the silences, because Robin wasn't, and Barry hadn't had the courage to. He still didn't know what had made Robin so down that day, and he wasn't altogether sure he wanted to. He certainly hadn't asked.

There were other things, too. Things that Robin said. The first time Wally had lost a civilian, he'd been devastated. Barry had offered all the advice for dealing with it that he could. " _There's nothing you could have done," "I wouldn't have done anything differently," "You handled the situation with the highest degree of heroism," "You did good, Wally."_

And then Robin stopped by, worried about his friend.

They didn't say anything, at first. They just sat there, with Robin offering his silent support.

Then he'd gotten up to leave, and with his back to Wally had said, "People die."

Then he left.

Wally had been so angry. Barry had been upset with Robin, too, because he knew exactly how Wally was taking it. " _People die_ ," like it was inevitable, like what they did didn't matter, like Wally should get over it already. It had been their first real fight as friends. Wally had refused to talk to Robin for days, and he'd made Barry miserable because of it.

Then Barry had seen what Wally hadn't. That Robin had been trying to help. Not, _get over it_ , but _shit happens, it's not your fault_.

Barry remembered wondering if that was how Batman had comforted Robin after he lost _his_ first civilian. The thought made him very sad.

And sure, Barry knew that Bruce did his best, and that he cared for that kid more than anybody, but he had to wonder if Dick wouldn't be quite so messed up if _he'd_ had somebody to tell him that there was nothing he could have done. That he'd done well. That it wasn't his fault.

Wally's mind had caught up with Barry's eventually, and he immediately had Dick over to apologize. Barry remembered the guilt on Wally's face when Dick had paled and said, "You were mad at me?"

Their biggest fight as friends, and it had been entirely one sided. Wally didn't stop trying to make that one up to Robin for _months_. As Barry understood it, Robin had eventually snapped and said some not so flattering things that had more or less placed them back on even footing.

The kid was a strange mix of innocence and worldly cynicism, weighed down by pain, loss, and loneliness.

And that–that darkness in his heart–Barry imagined that it probably protected him from Gotham, in a way. Like a shield. Barry didn't know. He didn't understand, that was the whole point.

"You're quiet."

Barry tore his gaze from the bleak streets of Gotham. "I'm worried."

A grunt. Barry supposed that meant _me too_. Words that he would never say.

"I don't want Wally to change from this, Bruce."

"Change?"

"This might really shake him."

"I'm sure Robin is doing everything he can to keep Kid Flash safe."

Barry put his head in his hands with an anguished moan. "You think that makes me feel better? To know that by sparing Wally, it condemns Dick?" He looked to Batman with hard eyes. "Give it to me straight. What do you think Joker's doing to them?"

"We're almost there."

"Bruce."

"He's not the easiest villain to predict."

"Try."

"I doubt his intention is to kill them, at least not until we arrive. But he isn't very good at holding back."

"Jesus, Bruce, are you telling me they might be dead?"

"I'm telling you," said Batman, "that you need to prepare yourself."

"Fucking prepare myself?'" Barry asked. "That's what doctors say when someone's gonna kick it!"

"I don't believe they're dead, if that helps."

Strangely, it did.

"Robin's been trained for this. Even so, they won't come away unscathed, so prepare yourself for damage control."

Oh. That's what he'd meant.

They could see the pier. Barry's leg vibrated up and down with nerves. He looked up, imagining the red and blue figure flying above them. "Hope you're ready, Big Guy," he muttered.

Sure enough, when they exited the Batmobile, Superman landed beside them.

"My city, my rules," said Batman.

"No arguments here," said Barry as they approached shipping containment building unit fourteen. The three of them fell into step. "Quick question. You're sure we can trust Harley's word?"

"I'm sure."

"Fair enough. Let's get this party started."

The smell hit them like a battering ram.

And the bodies. Only after Barry had confirmed that none of them were Dick or Wally did he allow himself to be truly horrified. Suspended by chains that reached into the rafters... large fishhooks imbedded into their chests and necks... One man was suspended upside down by a single hook in his thigh. The skin and muscle were so torn that Barry could see through the gaping hole in his leg.

Then Barry saw the coil of rope around a pillar limp on the floor, resting in a pile of sick next to a knife. They'd definitely been there.

Batman walked to the center of the room and stopped.

Superman faced the far corner. "He's–"

Batman silenced him with a look.

The room was dark and rampant with shadows, but there was a small silhouette in the corner.

"You've brought an uninvited guest. Didn't your parents ever teach you that's rude?"

Barry glanced at Superman.

"Come out, Joker," said Batman.

There was a shuffle, and Joker stepped out of the shadows. He looked worse for wear. His suit was disheveled and ripped, and there was a trickle of blood at his temple.

"I hate to say it, B-Man," said Joker, sounding bitter, "but there isn't going to be a finale, this time. And after all that hard work!"

"Where are they?" asked Batman.

"How should I know?" Joker spat. "The speed brat ran your boy out of here."

Barry felt a wave of relief. _Good boy, Wally._

Batman narrowed his eyes. "Why stick around?"

Joker grinned. "So I can be the one to tell you that you're too late. And I bet you tried so hard, too. Ah, well. Que sera, sera, I always say."

Batman grabbed Joker by the lapels on his jacket. "Explain."

"I'm afraid your little bird isn't going to last much longer."

"What did you do?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that. I tried to hold myself back, I really did, but he's just so small–I misjudge my own strength, sometimes."

Barry's eyes found the bloody crowbar on the floor and fought the urge to be sick. There were spots of blood spattered across the floor.

There was a thudding smack, and Barry turned to see Joker fall, blood splattering from Joker's nose. Batman's fist came back again–

Superman grabbed his arm, across the room in a second. "He is not resisting."

"You think I care?"

"Our time would be better spent looking for Robin and Kid Flash."

"Listen to Supey, Batman," said Joker, scrambling backwards on the floor. "He sounds like a reasonable fellow."

"My city," Batman growled, and Superman let go.

Joker climbed to his feet and brushed himself off. "I really am sorry. You came all the way here. I had a whole show planned! With music, and fireworks! I just know you would have loved it!"

"Fireworks?" said Batman. "Superman," he ordered.

Superman turned in a circle slowly, presumably looking inside of stuff with his weird, magic eyeballs. Bet Batman was glad the man in blue had come _now._

"That pillar there, it's rigged to blow."

"I was going to use that to explode the flash boy," said Joker, and Barry stiffened. "Into a million, billion pieces. But Boy Blunder had to go and _ruin it_. I did fix it up once they left. It should be working fine, now. Let's see–"

Barry moved. He grabbed the black box from Joker's hand and retreated faster than the eye could blink.

But Joker just laughed. "The problem with people today, nobody ever deigns to look up."

Barry looked up, like an idiot, but so did Superman, so at least there was that.

The box was snatched from Barry's hands as Superman made some comment about there being more bombs in the rafters.

And then the world exploded.


	6. The Scum of the Earth

The Narrows.

Gotham's bottom line.

The island borough between Midtown and Downtown Gotham, home of Arkham Asylum.

While they were in more danger than Robin had initially realized, he couldn't help but feel relieved. Joker could have taken them anywhere, but they weren't that far from the Asylum, which meant that help wasn't out of reach. They just had to move quickly.

Which was turning out to be a real problem.

"Look," said Robin, gripping Wally's shoulders tight so his friend wouldn't notice him shaking. "There's an abandoned house on that road over there. I could hide while you–"

"Would you shut up about that?"

Robin huffed. "Our chances would be greater if you would just–"

"Leave you?" Wally stopped walking. He crouched and slid Robin to the ground before spinning around to face him. The part of Wally's face that wasn't crusted with dry blood was flushed with exertion. "What are you trying to pull? Huh?"

Robin's entire body ached. Light tremors were going up his arms and legs, and his head felt heavy. He looked up at Wally from his spot on the ground. He just wanted to sleep.

Wally's face softened, and he knelt down in front of him. "How're you doing?"

Robin shrugged.

"You're not looking so good."

"Yeah." A wave of dizziness swept over him and he let his forehead rest on his best friend's shoulder. "Not feelin' so good, either."

He could feel Wally's unease as his friend glanced around the street. "We can't stay out in the open like this," he said, putting a hand on the small of Robin's back, grounding him.

"S'okay," mumbled Robin. "You go, I'll just stay here."

"We have to keep moving."

Robin's breathing hitched. He didn't want to. _God_ , he didn't want to _move_.

And then Wally was pulling away, and Robin's head slumped forward. Hands steadied him. Pulled at him. And the pressure returned to his chest as he was again hauled onto his friend's back. He tried to stay awake, he really did, but the monotony of it all, his friend's steps beneath him, the throbbing pain in his head, the gray street slowly, _slowly_ moving idly, idly by– –

Wally’s stomach hurt. And his back ached. And his arms– _mother almighty_ , his arms–

It was with a harrowing feeling that Wally realized he couldn't carry Robin much longer. He simply didn't have the endurance. But the last thing he wanted to do was leave Robin behind.

He eyed the abandoned house Robin had pointed out. All Wally had to do was find some food. Or a phone.

He was panting with effort, each step more difficult than the last, and Robin going limp didn't help his back or his nerves.

"Rob?" Wally asked, freezing where he stood. "Shit." He glanced around, not able to shake the feeling of eyes on his back, but there was no one. Not a soul in sight. So why did he feel like he was under a microscope?

He thought of Robin on missions, taking out enemies in the shadows, enemies that the rest of the team never even realized were there. Right. Gotham. Darkness. This was the world that Robin came from. Wally tried to shift how he looked at the street. He tried to ignore what Uncle Barry had taught him, and instead tried to focus on what Robin had taught him, and what Batman had said on one of the few occasions that he'd led their training sessions in Black Canary's place (Wally had never been more sore in his life). Instead of searching for movement, for visible threats, he turned his eyes to the shadows. The stillness. The places that your eyes didn't like to linger.

It took a moment. The contrast of light and shadow was drastic, and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, to _concentrate_ –

And Wally discovered that they weren't alone at all.

There were eyes everywhere. Peeking through cracks in blinds, spaces between the drapes, around corners, from the darkness–

His mouth ran very dry.

Robin must have noticed. This was how Robin looked at the world, so why hadn't he warned Wally that they weren't alone?

Something could be said for Wally's state of mind now that he knew the feeling of being watched couldn't just be cracked up to his own paranoia, so maybe Rob had kept it confidential for Wally's sanity, except now Robin was unconscious, and Wally didn't know what to do with this information. He was helpless, just like before–

But no. He could move, now. He wasn't restrained. He might not be able to run, but he wasn't helpless. They'd escaped. They were alive. He could work with that.

He resumed moving forward.

The eyes followed him.

He thought about stopping and asking someone to use their phone, but a little voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like Rob told him it would be a very bad idea.

He wondered briefly if they would be in less danger if they weren't in costume, but quickly shot the idea down. Besides it being impractical to go searching for a pair of clothes, too many people had seen them as Kid Flash and Robin. It wouldn't be a big leap when they saw another pair of teenagers, one terribly injured and one with red hair, to guess at their identity. Also, there was the problem of Dick Grayson.

Wally wasn't sure what Dick Grayson's reputation was in the Narrows, and he definitely didn't want to find out. He'd already learned the hard way that Dick Grayson was in just as much trouble as his alter ego on a daily basis. Those stupid sunglasses that Wally hated? Rob had to wear them even when they were hanging out as just Dick and Wally, without the team, because paparazzi and kidnappers were such a huge problem for his friend, even in Central City. Rob had been kidnapped for ransom, once, in Central as Dick Grayson, and Batman still hadn't let that one go. He would probably never forgive Wally for letting it happen (not that he _could_ do anything as Wally West, but that didn't seem to matter to Batman.) In the end, Kid Flash and the Flash had found Dick, safe and–while not altogether _sound_ –mostly whole.

The incident had really shaken Wally up, but Rob had brushed it off with a wave of his hand, grinned behind a purple bruise that curved around his left cheekbone and said "Don't sweat it, Walls. As far as kidnappings go, that was cake. They kept me conscious the whole time, didn't even drug me."

He'd said it off the cuff. Blasé. Like he was being reassuring. Like he didn't realize that Wally wanted to puke with the implications that came with it.

Rob had gone home with Batman and showed up at the mountain the next day for training. Wally had not approved and hadn't hesitated to voice it, and Rob's patience had run thin alarmingly quick. They'd ended up shouting for the whole mountain to hear. Wally couldn't remember exactly what had been said, but he'd struck some verbal blows, to which Rob had struck back with equal ferocity, making some serious hits to his ego. Then the moment had passed, and they left training to play video games. Wally was sure, now more than ever, that Robin had just been humoring him by leaving training early, but he didn't mind. He'd take what he could get, especially with someone as stubborn as his best friend.

So, no changing clothes.

Top priority: check on Rob.

Wally made his way towards the abandoned building–well, the _assumingly_ abandoned building, but Wally wasn't about to assume anything, not after the shit day they'd had. It was small, with boarded up windows and a hole in the roof. He kicked the door open with his foot and trudged inside, sweat dripping into his eyes.

It was small, dark, and unfurnished.

Wally carefully set Robin on the floor, fighting the urge to check him over right then. He had to make sure they were the only ones inside. Batman's voice resonated in his head: _secure the area._

He checked every room. Every closet. Every corner. Every shadow.

There was no phone. Not that he'd expected to find one, but still, it would have made things a hell of a lot simpler.

What he did find was a ratty old blanket that he refused to touch, a few broken hangers, a box of something that he thought might have once had food in it, a single chopstick, and a produce can with the label torn off.

He grabbed the can and returned to the main room where Robin lay on his side. He carefully grabbed his shoulders and lifted him so his back rested against the wall. With shaking hands, he probed Robin's chest and abdomen, feeling for injuries. When he gently prodded near the ribs on his left side, Robin's eyes shot open and a hand locked around Wally's wrist, twisting it away in a quick, painful grip.

Wally cried out in pain. Recognizing that he wasn't in danger, Robin let go and sagged back against the wall. "Walls... what're you doing?"

Wally rubbed his wrist with a frown. "Did that hurt?"

At least Robin could still manage to look annoyed.

"Sorry," said Wally. "I was trying to see if any were broken."

"They're broken," said Robin with certainty. "Where're we? Why're you still here?"

"We're in that old house," said Wally, choosing to ignore the second question. "You passed out."

Robin let out a long breath. He fumbled for the latch on his belt. There was a soft click and he held it out for Wally. "Take this."

Wally took it and immediately began rifling through it.

"Third pocket," said Robin.

There was a small liquid canister with an attachable needle in a sealed packet.

Wally blinked. "What's this?"

"Epinephrine," he said, rolling up the sleeve on his left arm and presenting the crook of his elbow.

Wally had to do a double take. "You're joking, right? You want me to inject you with pure adrenaline? _Are you out of your_ _mind_?"

"It's for 'mergencies."

Wally shoved it back into the third pocket.

Robin groaned and dropped his arm. "It's safe, KF."

"No, it isn't!" he snapped. "We don't know what kind of damage you're sitting with. If you start running around fueled by adrenaline, you're only going to make it worse. I can't believe you even have that. Does Batman know you have it?"

"He's the one who gave it to me."

"Of course he is," he spat. "Absolutely ridiculous. I can't believe him."

"Damage can be fixed later, survival in the immediate is priority one." He spoke straight and unwavering, like he was repeating a rule long ingrained into his memory.

"Have you got anything useful in here?" asked Wally, opening other pockets. "Something like, I don't know, bandages? An extra communicator? Food?"

"No bandages," said Robin, "and Joker took my communicator."

Figures that Batman would give him epinephrine but no bandages–can anyone say priorities? And– "Wait, Joker took your communicator?" Wally didn't remember that. "When?"

"When you were knocked out, after he took us."

Wally remembered Joker taunting him, telling him about their game _Goodnight Birdy_ , how Robin was resistant to the less potent gasses.

That's right. There was a portion of their time in captivity that Wally hadn't been conscious for. Suddenly afraid that he'd missed something else important, Wally narrowed his eyes and looked his friend over, as if a new, previously unknown injury would reveal itself with this information.

"Did he do anything else?"

"Relax. The worst of it happened while you were awake." Robin noticed the can on the floor next to Wally. "What's that?"

"Dunno," said Wally, picking up the can. "I'm hoping it's food. I don't suppose you have a can opener in there?"

"Ninth pocket."

"Seriously?" Sure enough, there was a small pocketknife with a can opener attachment as one of its many arms. He started to work on the can. "Maybe I should start carrying a belt."

Robin's head lolled and Wally nearly dropped the can in his haste to set it down. He leaned forward and held Rob's head up with his hands, carefully avoiding the bruises and blood. "Hey, none of that, now, come on. We're not done yet."

"Dn't wanna."

"Hey. I said we're not done yet. You still have to tell me what the hell else is in this magic belt of yours."

"You've got eyeballs. Look yourself..."

"What's in the first pocket?"

A groan.

"Rob, what's in the first pocket?"

"Gerroff." Robin shrugged Wally's hands away.

"Talk to me, Robin," said Wally, turning back to the can with earnest. He needed to get Robin out of there, _now_.

"It's getting... It's getting harder to, uh... stay awake..."

"You are not falling back asleep," said Wally. Something wet dribbled out of the can when he jostled it in his attempts to open it faster. "You're going to tell me what else is in this belt, I'm going to eat whatever is in this can, and we're gonna run outta here together. Do you hear me?"

"Yeah..." He was too quiet.

"I said do you hear me?" Nothing. "Robin!"

"Hear you..."

"What was that?"

"I said I hear you!" Irritated, but at least sharper than it had been.

"Good," said Wally, and the top of the can finally popped off and clattered to the dirty floor. His stomach dropped. "Uh-oh."

"Wha's uh-oh?" asked Robin. He peered into the can and let out a breathy, mocking laugh. "Bon appetite."

It was a can of lima beans.

And yes, okay, he knew the situation was dire, and his hatred for that particular type of bean wasn't going to stop him from eating them, but there was a serious risk that he might throw up whatever he managed to swallow. And he'd been hoping for something more dense with calories. This wouldn't give him nearly enough energy to do what he'd planned.

"Plug your nose," said Robin, a light smirk gracing his face.

It was the first time his friend had looked like himself since this whole debacle had started, and it lightened Wally's heart a little bit.

"This isn't going to be enough," he said.

"It's enough to get you to a phone."

And they were back to square one–leaving Robin alone to go and get help, which was the _last_ fucking thing he wanted to do.

But they really were out of options, and at least now he wouldn't be leaving Robin out in the open.

"Damn it."

"I'll be okay."

Wally wanted to believe him.

He plugged his nose and tipped the can into his mouth.

Somewhere in the black, Barry coughed violently. Dust and rubble were in his lungs and he _couldn't breathe_ –

And then there was a _whirlwind_ that smelled slightly minty fresh–

And the dust was blown away.

"Superman?" he called into the darkness.

"Flash. Are you all right?" The voice came from above him.

Barry had to check. "I'm all right. Batman?"

A grunt.

Barry turned towards the sound. "Was that an _'I'm in pain'_ sound or an _'I'm all right, too'_ sound?"

There was another grunt.

Two red eyes appeared over him out of nowhere and Barry shouted, falling back onto his butt, hard.

"Sorry."

"Jesus," said Barry, rubbing his tailbone. "Dick move, asshole." He was at his wit's end. He wasn't much for swearing, and almost never at Clark, but needs must.

Superman's laser eyes illuminated their situation.

Superman was hovering, a giant piece of ceiling on his shoulders, protecting Barry and Batman from being crushed. Batman looked perfectly fine, the bastard, standing perfectly straight, brushing some dust from his cape.

"I'm going to throw this over there," said Superman.

Barry nodded.

And damn if that throw wasn't impressive. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the sheer enormity of things that Clark could do.

A cloud of dust enveloped them again, but a quick breath from Superman sent it away.

"I'm so glad you don't have halitosis," Barry muttered.

"Any sign of Joker?" asked Batman.

"He's gone," said Superman.

They were still more or less buried, but a few more quick throws from Superman and they were clear.

"What now?" Barry asked, just daring Batman to suggest pursuing Joker.

"Now we find Robin and Kid Flash." A breath. "I'm going to need your help." And Barry knew what it cost Bruce to say that.

Barry nodded. "Just tell us what you need."

"They could have gone anywhere from here. You two are faster than I am. Start here and move out until you locate them."

Clark put a hand on Batman's shoulder. "We'll find them." He took off into the sky.

Barry hesitated, but words were a waste of time. He took off, circling the crumbled warehouse and expanding his search with each lap. This trust that Batman had placed in them would not be wasted.


	7. Pure Adrenaline

The second Wally left, Robin fumbled with the third pocket of his belt. Wally had tried to get him to promise he wouldn't use it but had acquiesced to matters of life and death. He didn't have to listen... but... He clutched the vial in his hand. No point in wasting it preemptively, he supposed.

As it so happened, if it really came down to a matter of adrenaline to jumpstart his body, he wasn't altogether certain that he'd be able to use it, his hands were shaking so badly.

The Narrows… Batman _hated_ taking him to the Narrows, and Robin had never found the experience particularly enjoyable himself. Take your average Gotham criminal and multiply their desperation times two. These people had a lot more to gain and a lot less to lose.

Robin grimaced at the lingering taste of iron in his mouth. _Something_ inside of him was bleeding, and that never boded well at the best of times, when Alfred and Leslie were on hand if he needed them. He mimicked Wally's earlier movements, feeling for any obvious signs of internal bleeding–a swollen or tightness in the abdomen–but he found none. Whatever was wrong with him was showing no signs on the surface. This could be very good, or it could be very, very bad, but whatever it was, he was stuck in the same damn predicament–stranded, useless, waiting, while his best friend was out there, in the Narrows, alone.

He hoped Wally didn't do anything stupid, like talk to someone–like let his guard down–like find a cop–

Robin could have kicked himself. He hadn't told Wally to stay away from the local police force. In this part of town, there was a larger chance that a cop would be dirty than not, and no dirty cop was going to help a lost, teenage superhero wandering the streets alone. He hoped to _God_ Wally remembered him talking about Gotham's police line and how the only person he and Batman trusted was Commissioner Gordon. _Use that big brain of yours, Wally, and think things through for once._

He knew it wasn't the way speedsters operated. They moved faster than the mind could think, which was part of what made them such good superheroes–to be able to snatch a gun away before the owner could even register that they should pull the trigger–but it's also part of the reason that Robin beat Wally in every fight. If Wally could slow down, if he could take the time to think things through _methodically_ , Robin didn't doubt that Wally could beat him in a fight. He was _so_ smart. The problem was that his body moved quicker than his head.

This entire situation sucked. Rarely was he ever caught so out of options, but the day had certainly taken its toll. He'd lost not one, but both of his communicators. Now Batman was going to start making him carry three. Giving his first to Kaldur had been a tactical decision, giving his second to Joker a necessary one. Perhaps he _should_ carry a third…

Robin's head slumped, and he jolted awake. He couldn't lose consciousness, not now, not while he was in danger. But he could feel himself growing weaker. He wasn't a pessimist, but he was a realist, and he knew he was in bad shape. And not bad shape like 'ouch, that hurt, I'm gonna be out of commission for a while' bad shape, but more of a 'shit, I might not come back from this one,' bad shape. He didn't want to say he was _dying_ , because it all felt a bit melodramatic and this was hardly the worse off he'd ever been, but he could feel it. He'd almost died enough times to know what it felt like.

And it felt like this.

He eyed the vial from Batman. Wally did not like that he had this, but really, how different was it to the can of lima beans his friend had just ingested? A necessary evil to grant energy that was so desperately short. Sure, Wally's option had a bit more nutritional value, and, yes, technically Robin would essentially be drugging himself, but he didn't have the speed force running through his veins to turn his food into pure kinetic energy. All he had was a regular human metabolism and a regular human body that had been severely compromised. If you looked at it logically, you could say he was out of options.

And he had said so, to Wally in fact, to which Wally had replied 'fuck logic,' before making him promise only to use it if his life depended on it.

He supposed that was fair.

Robin hadn't liked carrying it around at first, either. But Batman had called it a necessary evil. Robin sure had been glad he'd had it the first time he'd needed it. It had probably saved his life. And while Wally was definitely right about it making the damage worse in the long run, internal bleeding was a hell of a lot better than death–disregarding the fact that the former was often a precursor to the latter. All it was, was a means of buying time.

Needing to busy his hands, Robin reattached his belt around his waist. He was dangerously tired, and if he didn't find something to occupy himself with, he was going to slip into the void. There was a problem he could focus on, but it wasn't going to be pleasant: he was sitting in the open, right next to the front door. If someone did come in, someone who was not Wally, he was a sitting duck. Strategically, the best place for him would be behind the kitchen counter–It would hide him from view, while still giving him a clear sightline to the entrance–but the counter was a few meters away.

It should be child's play.

But it had never felt further to Robin.

He should have had Wally help him while he was there, but his mind was scrambled from his concussion, and Wally had been so focused on getting help.

He hoped his friend was all right.

He carefully maneuvered himself to his knees. Slowly. Painfully. He got a foot underneath him, but the moment he tried to stand he was slammed with a wave of dizziness that had him on his hands and knees with that peculiar taste rising in the back of his throat. Oh, God, he didn't want to throw up again. _Don't throw up, please, don't throw up–_

His stomach spasmed against his broken ribs bringing tears to his eyes as he gagged. Black spots danced across his vision and he did _not_ want to pass out in his own vomit. His weak arms trembled as he fought to hold up his own weight and his vision darkened. He shut his eyes tight and focused on breathing. Shallow breaths. Shallow breaths were good. Even if he felt like he wasn't getting enough oxygen to his body. Even if he felt light-headed.

He just didn't have enough air.

He gasped. Short, quick breaths that did nothing for him–and there was _blood_ in the puddle of sick below him–and he couldn't breathe _–_ he was going to die of asphyxiation before Wally ever made it back–

He didn't know how long he sat there, on his hands and knees, panicking, unable to breathe properly with his heart beating out of his chest.

After a while, he began to calm down.

He got control over his breathing.

His heart rate slowed.

And he was more exhausted than ever.

He wiped some sick from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. God, he hated concussions. They managed to knock him on his ass, every time. Bruce liked to say it was because he had a fragile head, whatever the hell that meant. Robin was pretty sure anyone would succumb to blunt force trauma, no matter how thick the skull. Then again, Batman had the hardest head of anyone he had ever met.

Maybe he should drink more milk.

There was no way he was going to try standing again. He was not eager for round two. He was, however, conveniently already on his hands and knees. Crawling… he could crawl. _Babies_ crawled. Even concussed, he would renounce being Robin before he would be outdone by a baby.

A couple of inches at a time, Robin crawled. If there had been a race, the baby would have won, but maybe he would still have gotten one of those stupid participation ribbons. The ones that said 'congratulations, you tried' or some other useless crap.

God, he hated concussions.

He made it to the kitchen counter and slumped behind it like he'd just finished a marathon. He played with the idea of crawling inside, but if someone did come after him, the last thing he needed was to be trapped inside a kitchen cabinet. And there really wasn't much point in hiding. Gotham criminals were smarter than that.

His eyes fluttered closed as he rested against the counter. He was so damn tired…

There was a thud from outside, and Robin jerked awake for the second time.

There was another thud. He peeked around the counter and saw a shadow under the front door.

Someone was outside. Heavy footsteps. It wasn't KF.

Robin fumbled for the epinephrine. He opened the needle packet with shaking hands and attached it to the vial. He sat, ready. He'd made a promise. Life or death. There was a chance this was just a concerned citizen.

Who the hell was he kidding?

Robin stuck the needle in his arm and pushed. He felt fire spread throughout his body.

The door creaked open.

Robin flexed his fingers and stretched his neck as artificial strength rushed into him. The pain from his injuries was put on the back burner as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

He had a minimum of ten minutes before the shot wore off. Twenty if he was lucky. Once it wore off, he was going to crash _hard_. He only hoped Wally would be there when he did.

He peeked around the corner, his eyes sharp.

Caucasian male, outline of a knife in his pocket, early forties, approximately 6'2'', physically fit, if a little emaciated. Conclusion: strong, but low endurance threshold. Avoid pitting strength against strength and keep him busy until he tires out.

Or…

Robin pulled a smoke bomb out of his belt and threw it to the ground. The room filled with a gray cloud and he stealthily moved from behind the counter to the front door and slipped out.

There was a difference between fighting hard and fighting smart. Avoiding the confrontation would save energy, which was a limited resource right now. The adrenaline had gotten him to his feet, but in a fight, he had no idea how long he would last.

His heart pounding strong in his chest, Robin stuck to the shadows. He darted behind the house and kept low to the ground. He was shaky and enveloped in a cold sweat. Damn, Wally was right, this was _so_ not good for him.

He crept forward, his mind working fast. He'd left the house, which meant Wally wouldn't be able to find him when he came back, but if he wasn't back already, it could only mean that he'd run out of juice somewhere along the way. He could meet him halfway–

"There you are you sneaky bastard."

Robin spun around to see the man from the house, knife in hand. Damn it all, he really wasn't running on all cylinders if someone managed to sneak up on him. He grabbed a birdarang. So much for fighting smart. Maybe he could scare him off. He brought a hand to his ear.

"Batman. We've got trouble."

The man looked to the rooftops, uneasy, and Robin wanted to laugh.

A sound behind him–

Robin spun. There was another man, much broader, much _stronger_ , and much more well fed. This wasn't a man with endurance issues. And now two of his exits were blocked.

"Look at 'im. He's had the crap beat out of 'im," the man said. "Batman ain't 'ere."

There was a high-pitched bark of a laugh, and a tall, skinny woman emerged from the shadows. "Is little Robbie out all alone?" She had a distinct lack of physical strength, but the knife in one hand and the riding crop in the other told him not to dismiss her as a threat.

Robin was at the intersection of the T between houses, and each of the three exits were blocked. It was a good thing he'd gotten out of the house when he did. If he'd been cornered _inside_ by the three of them, he didn't think he would have made it out.

"You know what I think?" asked the first man, looking decidedly more cocky now that he knew Batman wasn't coming. "I think–"

Robin threw his birdarang and knocked the knife out of his hand. There was a spurt of blood and a cry of pain as it nicked the man's hand.

Don't let them monologue. Take them by surprise.

While the man was distracted by the pain, Robin advanced and delivered three sharp jabs, designed to incapacitate. One to the stomach–one to the throat–one to the side of the head–the man went down, writhing. Dirty. Quick. Efficient.

He heard the other two approaching from behind. He grabbed his grappling hook, shot the roof of the building, and was hoisted up. It pulled him a bit faster than he was used to without the drag of his cape, and he stumbled the landing, off-balance. He looked down at the angry faces and waved with a sideways grin.

The roofs of the buildings were close enough together to jump them–in normal circumstances. Currently, the space between his building and the next looked tantamountingly far. But as the two thugs from the ground climbed the walk-up to the roof, Robin backed away for a running start. His entire body was numb, and he had to be sure to stay aware of the damage that was ever present. He could minimize further damage by landing in a roll–

They'd reached the roof. Time was up.

Robin ran and jumped.

He landed harder than usual and he felt something jolt inside of him. _Not good, not good_ –

He had to get back on the ground. Another landing like that might take him out. His pursuers were already jumping after him.

He was out of options. He turned to fight.

The man and woman landed and paused. They watched him with narrowed eyes, his posture, his raised fists. Now that he wasn't fleeing, they seemed to be having second thoughts.

"What's the matter?" asked Robin. There was a tinge of iron on his tongue. He needed to end this quickly. "We've established that Batman's not here. Come and have a go."

"Come on, Graham," said the woman. "Get him!"

The man hesitated.

"Why so nervous, _Graham_?" asked Robin, his voice light, as he pulled out a birdarang and weighed it delicately in his hand.

Graham clenched his hands into fists.

"That's it," said Robin, bending his knees with a grin and getting into stance.

He hadn't used Bagua Zhang martial arts in a long time, but as it was based in evasion to the point that defense became offense, this was his best bet against multiple enemies in the state he was in. Circle-walking utilized footwork so that even the most well-coordinated attacks would miss, tiring the attacker out. If he played this right, he wouldn't have to break a sweat.

The man came at him with a heavy fist raised and swinging–

But Robin wasn't there anymore. Robin was behind him, tapping him firmly on the back and knocking him off balance and to the ground.

The woman charged with her knife and riding crop–

A toss of the birdarang and the knife was knocked out of her hand and over the roof's edge. A swing of the riding crop and Robin's face was stinging, but he managed to grab it on its recoil and pulled, dragging the woman with it, right into his awaiting fist. She crumpled.

The man recovered and was back on his feet. Robin ducked a swing. Sidestepped another. Moved out of range for a kick and shoved him roughly, watching him stumble.

Robin stood at the edge of the roof, relaxed. "You know, this is usually the part where Batman would break both your legs," said Robin offhandedly, dusting himself off.

Angry and humiliated, the man came at him full force–

Robin jumped up and over him–

And the man tumbled over the edge.

There was a solid, heavy thud as he hit the ground.

Robin looked over the side where the man lay, moaning in pain as he clutched at his arm, which hung at an odd angle. Dislocated. Twelve weeks for a full physical recovery. It wasn't two broken legs, but–

The woman launched herself at his back and latched on, one arm wrapped around his throat, the other pounding her fist into his injured side. Robin saw stars. He spun and tried to pull her off, but her momentum had put him too near the edge.

It was over in a matter of seconds. His foot skidded off the side, and their combined weight took them over it.

They landed hard.

Robin landed on top of the woman who went limp beneath him. He lay there, dazed, as the man groaned and clutched at his arm. He needed to get up. He needed to move. But his entire body was in shock. There was a ringing in his ears as the world went in and out of focus.

He managed to roll off the woman and onto his stomach. He spat blood onto the ground. His head felt heavier on one side and he couldn't seem to lift it properly. The world spun.

Footsteps. Voices. There were more of them. He had to get up. _Get the hell up, Robin!_

He forced himself to his feet and listed to the side. He caught himself on the wall of the building. His body wasn't listening to him.

Move. Run.

He stumbled, but it got his feet moving. He felt like he was watching someone else control his body. He ran around a corner and the whole world tilted and he almost hit the dust, but everything righted itself at the last second.

He was out of time. He was about to have a major crash, and he was alone in enemy territory. He forced every step forward as he panted, his mouth dry. He needed his friend. He needed Wally. 


	8. The Whip Hand

Wally was struggling with a moral dilemma.

He was a hero. He believed in justice. He believed in the law. And, as a hero, he firmly believed that he wasn't above the law.

So, that he was even _considering_ theft was a big deal for him.

His objectives were food and a phone. The _problem_ was that no one in the Narrows was willing to give him either.

Hence the dilemma.

He knew what he had to do. What he was going to do. But it didn't sit right in his stomach, because there shouldn't be exceptions. Desperation drove people to do mad, crazy things, and they got labeled as criminals for it.

Was it okay to steal a loaf of bread if you were starving? It was a question that justice couldn't answer.

Was it okay to steal food from a house in a town that already had nothing?

To be completely honest, the answer to that one didn't matter, because Wally's mind was already made up.

It took less than three seconds.

Less than three seconds, and Wally was a criminal.

Less than three seconds, and Wally had eaten food from no less than nine fridges on the street, hoping to balance the misfortune instead of crippling one household.

Then he stole a phone.

That had actually been marginally difficult. A twelve second problem.

He stared at the mobile in his hand and felt dirty. Making a mental promise to return the phone and replace the food when the whole mess was over, Wally turned around to return to Robin's side when–

 _Freezing pain_ shot up his leg.

Wally cried out and dropped the phone where it landed on the dark street with a clatter. Ice encased his left calf and foot, cementing it to the ground. It _burned_ and slowed down the molecules in his leg, and he struggled to vibrate the ice off.

"The hell?" Wally's eyes found the man in a cryogenic suit with a cold tank on his back and a glass dome over his head. "Mr. Freeze?" A second blast of ice came his way, and Wally had to contort his body to avoid it. "Hey! Watch it with that thing!"

His leg was stuck fast. He pulled, wincing as the cold clung tight. He vibrated his hand and chopped away at it. Flakes of frost jumped at his face as Mr. Freeze advanced with his gargantuan freeze gun.

Wally tried to remember what Robin had told him about this particular Gotham villain. His name was Dr. Victor Fries and his body had to be kept at sub-zero temperatures or he would die. Hadn't his wife died or something? That was the extent of what Wally remembered because, if he recalled correctly, he'd been rather distracted at the time. Damn M'Gann and her beautiful green skin. In his defense, when he'd been ignoring Robin, he hadn't known that he'd come face to face with the freaky ice villain without Robin by his side. Robin knew things, Wally knew things, it was all the same.

Until they were separated.

Damn it.

Mr. Freeze stood in front of Wally, his gun outstretched.

"Hang on, hang on, Big Guy," said Wally, frantically trying to get a hold on the situation. "Are you sure you want to be doing that?"

"Any friend of Batman's is no friend of mine."

That was the first time Wally had ever been called Batman's _friend_. He couldn't decide if he was flattered or disturbed. "Is that like a rule, or–?" The ice gun hummed as it powered up and Wally threw his hands in the air. "Dude, seriously! Come on! You've already got me!"

The gun glowed blue and Wally knew he was done for. Of all of the things in the world, cold was one thing speedsters couldn't overcome. It weakened them. It stalled their healing and slowed them down. He already couldn't feel anything below his left knee.

He shut his eyes tight and waited to become a human icicle–

"Put an ice cap on it, Freeze. Leave the kid alone."

His eyes shot open. Tall and slender, clad in skin-tight black leather, with goggles over her head and a cat o' nine tails gripped in her left hand. His mouth dropped open of its own accord.

"Catwoman!" said Freeze.

"Do you even know who this is?" she asked. "Save your ice, Trigger-Finger."

Freeze didn't move.

Catwoman extracted her claws. "I said scram!"

Freeze left, and Wally breathed heavy with relief. "Thank you–"

"You're Robin's friend, right?" she said as she slashed at the ice around his left leg with her claws. It shattered into a hundred pieces.

"Yeah," said Wally. He dropped to one knee and massaged his frozen limb.

"Good. Now Batman owes me one. Get the hell out of Gotham, Kid."

Wally stood to follow but winced as his leg gave out underneath him. "Wait!" he called, forcing himself to his feet and limping after her. She faced him with narrowed eyes and he stopped dead. "I, uh…"

"Spit it out."

"You and Batman are…" Wally searched for the right word. "Sort of friends, right?"

She raised her brow. "Did Robin tell you that?"

Wally shook his head. "No."

"We're something," said Catwoman. "Though I'm not sure 'friends' is the word I'd use," she muttered.

He knew he had to play his cards carefully. Robin had been very clear about all of the times that Catwoman had screwed him and Batman over, so she couldn't be _trusted_ , per se, but she did have some level of altruism that he may be able to exploit because, when it came down to it, she did care what Batman thought of her.

"Robin's in trouble." That hadn't come out nearly as smooth as he'd wanted it to.

"And?"

Wally swallowed. There wasn't even a flicker of concern in her face. He hoped she was just really good at poker. "You want Batman to owe you one, right? So, help me help him."

She looked him up and down and her eyes lingered on his left leg, his suit blackened with freezer burn. "It doesn't look like you'd be doing much helping."

Wally tried to rub warmth back into his frostbitten leg. It would heal, but he'd learned long ago from Captain Cold that these injuries took longer. A lot longer. It took time he didn't have.

"Nice try, Speedy," said Catwoman, turning away again, "but that kid's not worth the trouble."

"It's Kid Flash, and the hell he isn't."

She froze.

"You just saved my life to have Batman owe you one. You let Robin die, you think he'll ever talk to you again? He won't even look at you–"

Claws swiped at him, and he was too slow from the cold to doge them fully. They skimmed his chest, tearing his reinforced fabric like paper and drawing five lines of blood. It knocked him off balance and made him put weight on his injured leg. He fell back on his butt with a cry, bruising his tailbone. She glared down at him. "Don't even pretend to think you understand anything about what Batman thinks of me."

"As if I'd want to board that crazy train," said Wally hotly. "I don't get how your relationship works, but I know you're not heartless, so–"

Her claws were at his throat and he clamped his mouth shut. "You presume to know my heart?" Her nails broke skin, and he recoiled. The cuts on his chest were already healing, but there wasn't much the speed force could do if she snipped a major artery. "You presume to know _anything_ about me? If I choose to help Robin, it would be to rub it in Batman's smug face that I was there, and he wasn't."

This woman was screwed up. "Then fucking do that!"

She cocked her head to the side.

"I don't care what motivates you! Go ahead and rub his face in it all you want! Just _help me_!"

She retracted her claws and tapped his cheek lightly. "As long as we're on the same page." She stalked off and called to him over her shoulder. "I'm not going to hold your hand, Flash Boy. On your feet."

"It's Kid Flash," Wally grumbled, standing up. He grabbed the stolen cell phone from the ground and limped after her.

"Where is he?" she asked, striding down the dark streets of the Narrows like she owned the place.

"Uh," said Wally, "I left him in an abandoned building. Near Vulkar Street." He pointed. "That way."

"How bad off is he?"

Wally snapped his head towards her. There was something in her tone that he didn't like.

"A bit late to question whether I'm trustworthy."

"You aren't."

"What exactly has Robin told you about me?"

"I know you've saved his life," said Wally. "I also know you've left him to die. What is it with you, a toss of a coin?"

"Mm, no, that's more Two-Face's gig."

It took longer to get there than he liked, with his leg on the mend. He was starting to regain mobility in his knee, which was a plus.

"This is it," said Wally, gesturing at the abandoned building.

Catwoman pulled her goggles over her eyes and grabbed her cat o' nine tails from her belt.

"Jesus, are you planning to hurt him or help him?" asked Wally.

"Does it have to be one or the other?"

Wally grit his teeth.

"Calm down. It's for my own protection. He isn't going to be happy to see me. I may have left him to fend for himself against Killer Croc the last time we met."

Aaaaaand he hated her. He'd been reserving judgement, but knowing she'd abandoned Robin to fight that monstrosity alone solidified his opinion.

"Can you really blame me for looking out for myself?" she asked dryly. "I try to make it a rule not to tangle with anyone more than _four times my size_."

Wally remembered Killer Croc in his cell, gargantuan, monstrous, inhuman…

He supposed he understood. Fear was a powerful motivator. Didn't change his opinion of her, though, selfish piece of–

"I take it you didn't leave the door open," she said.

Wally's heart dropped into his chest. He speed-walked inside the building, ignoring the pain in his leg.

Empty.

Why the hell was it empty? He hadn't been away long. It had taken him only seconds to get what he'd needed, then, at most, fifteen minutes to return on a wounded leg.

Fifteen minutes too long.

Wally turned away from Catwoman and dropped his face in his hands.

"He isn't here," said Catwoman after a quick search of the house. She eyed the puddle of vomit in disgust.

Wally took a few deep breaths, trying to keep the panic at bay. There were two possibilities. The first being that Robin had been taken. The second being, because there was no way Robin could have just _walked out_ unaided, that his friend was hopped up on adrenaline right now, doing who knows what with who knew what kind of damage inside of him.

Neither possibility was comforting.

"If Robin were found by residents of the Narrows," said Wally, hating the words even as he said them, "what would they do with him?"

"They would never get the jump on Robin," said Catwoman. "If I say anything about the kid it's that he knows how to handle himself."

"No," said Wally, "you don't understand. When I said that Robin needs our help, I didn't mean he could use some assistance, I meant that he _can't freaking stand on his own._ "

There was the concern he'd been looking for. "What are you talking about?"

Wally pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a huff. "We only just escaped from the Joker–"

Catwoman hissed.

"Oh, so _that_ upsets you, but you'll leave him with Crocodile Dundee?"

Her lips curled into a snarl. "Why did you leave his side in the first place?"

"We needed a way to contact Batman!" Wally held up the stolen phone.

"So call him!"

"I don't know his number!"

Catwoman snatched the phone out of his hands and dialed.

"Hey! What are you doing?" asked Wally.

A moment of waiting. "Gordon," said Catwoman and Wally's jaw dropped. "It's Catwoman. I'm here with a snot-nosed justice brat, and Robin's missing. We're in the Narrows, on Vulkar and 25th." A pause. She grinned. "Well, you'll just have to trust that I'm telling the truth this time, won't you?" She handed the phone out to Wally. "He wants to talk to you."

Wally blinked. He took the phone. "Hello?"

"Kid Flash?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Are you all right, Son?" There was such warmth in that gravelly voice that Wally found himself relaxing slightly.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Nothing that won't heal. But Robin–"

"Does Catwoman have him?"

"No. No, she's helping."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know," said Wally, and it physically pained him to admit it.

"I've sent Batman your location. Flash and Superman were with him. They should be arriving soon. You just sit tight, all right?"

"But Rob–"

"You stay with Catwoman. Normally, I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw her, but considering where you are, it might be best to stick with the lesser of two evils. Just don't let your guard down, all right? Now… how bad was Robin hurt?"

Not _was_ Robin hurt, but _how bad_ was it. He supposed, of all people, Commissioner Gordon knew what the Joker was capable of.

"Bad," said Wally, and his voice broke.

"But he's alive?"

And the concern in that voice broke something in Wally. "I don't know."

A sharp intake of breath.

"He was," hurried Wally, "last I saw him. He was definitely alive. I left to get a phone…"

"You did the right thing, Son. Batman's on his way."

"He had, uh, epinephrine," said Wally, finding himself unable to stop talking now that he'd started. "If he used it, he's probably crashed by now and I don't know where–"

"Kid. Calm down. Batman will find him. Robin's one tough son-of-a-bitch. He'll be okay. He always is."

Despite Gordon's efforts, Wally hung up the phone feeling worse. His leg ached, his head pounded, and his best friend might be dead.

"Batman on his way?" Catwoman asked.

Wally nodded.

"Then let's go."

"Gordon told us to stay put." God, he didn't even sound like himself anymore.

"From what I heard, Robin's got one foot in the grave," said Catwoman. "You really want to wait?"

Wally followed her outside. "You never answered my question," he said

"What question?" she asked, distracted as they searched around the back of the house. She examined scuffs in the dirt.

"What would have happened to Robin if he was found in that house?"

"These people," she said, not looking at him, "they're desperate. Robin's got quite the bounty on his head in the underground."

"So they'd sell him?" asked Wally, sickened.

"To the highest bidder."

They turned the corner, and Wally's breath caught in his throat. A woman lay spread eagle on her back, staring blankly at the sky, her mouth parted slightly. She was completely still.

"That's a dead body…" he said, uncomfortable.

Catwoman looked at the woman critically before turning her eyes to the roof. "I thought you said he couldn't stand on his own?"

"I also said he had a needle full of adrenaline," grumbled Wally.

Catwoman turned her attention to the dirt. She examined the scrapes and prints and stood up straight.

"Which way?"

Catwoman pointed.

Wally moved as fast as he was able. Considering Catwoman was able to keep pace with him, he must really be off his game.

He noticed that the eyes in the shadows were sparse. Maybe Gordon had a point, telling him to stick with Catwoman. The people were afraid of her. He couldn't wait to tell Robin that she'd saved him from Mr. Freeze, he'd go ballistic. If he was in any state to listen…

A dark shape dropped from the sky and Wally cried out and landed on his ass for the second time that day.

Catwoman didn't flinch. "Batman," she said.

Batman stood straight. "Catwoman."

Then the Flash was there, helping Wally up, and Superman hovered nearby.

The sight of Batman had everything that happened to him and Robin that day flit through Wally's mind on a fast-forward movie reel, and he flung himself forward in a rage, bodily shoving Batman back. "Where the _hell_ have _you_ been?" Batman did nothing to defend himself, so Wally did it again. "What were you thinking? Sending us there! With _him_!" The Kevlar hurt his hands, but he shoved him again– "Why the hell weren't you there? Why didn't you come for us sooner? Why didn't you _save_ us? You–"

"KF!" Barry dragged Wally off of Batman.

"You bastard!" Wally cried, swinging wildly at Batman even as Barry pulled him away.

"KF, calm down!"

"You bastard! Bastard! He's a bastard!"

Barry pulled Wally tight to his chest as Wally pushed and screamed. "It's okay, KF," said Barry. "It's okay. You're okay. We're here."

Wally could feel himself shaking. What was wrong with him?

"What happened to your face? And your leg!" asked Barry.

Wally bodily shoved his uncle away from him. "Robin's still out there!"

"Where?" asked Batman.

"Why're you looking at me?" asked Catwoman.

"You're telling me you don't know?"

"Are you saying I should?"

And Wally didn't know what the hell _that_ was.

"I found him."

All eyes looked to Superman. He was staring into the distance with a look of concentration on his face, and with a flutter of his cape, he was gone.

"KF, just let me look–"

"Get the hell away from me," Wally snarled. And, okay, the look on his uncle's face made him feel a _little_ bit guilty, but it didn't last long. "What took you so long?"

"Kid, we came as fast as we could–"

"What, did you lose your super speed or something?" Wally snapped. "I said _don't touch me_!"

Barry held his hands up. "We had no idea where you were!" he said. "Why are you covered in blood?"

"Because _I_ had to get us out of that mess," he said. "I had to phase through the ropes to stop the Joker from _killing him!"_

Batman flinched, and Barry blanched.

"All of this after I had to _watch–_ " his words got caught in his throat as the images rose to the front of his mind. He clutched at his head and let out a cry of frustration. His leg trembled beneath him.

"Kid, _please_ ," said Barry, holding his hands out as if trying to calm a wild animal. "You need to sit down–"

"I'm not doing _anything_ you say," said Wally. "Not until I know Robin is okay."

And there was Superman, looking particularly morose, with a limp Robin in his arms.

He looked dead.

Wally staggered. Barry caught his arm as his leg gave out, and he was lowered gently to the ground.

Batman hurried to Robin's side. Catwoman's forehead was wrinkled in what Wally could only assume was concern. He didn't understand her. He didn't understand Gotham. He hated it. He hated all of it. All of them. The whole city and everyone in it was septic, and Arkham was the open wound.

He wanted to go home.

But he wanted to take Robin with him.


	9. Under the Kevlar

"Commissioner? We found another one."

Gordon wearily rubbed his face under his glasses. "Have they been identified?"

"Robert Wilkins, thirty-five." A hesitation. "He had a wife and two kids, Sir."

Gordon and his men were at Gotham Pier, searching what was left of shipping containment building fourteen. They'd recovered no less than five, now six, bodies in the wreckage, and they weren't even close to finishing.

"Any sign of _him_ yet?"

The officer shook his head.

Gordon let out a world-weary sigh. "Keep looking."

"Sir." The officer returned to the rubble.

He knew it was a longshot. The Joker wasn't about to go and blow himself up by accident. But he could hope.

"We've got something over here," called Simonds.

Gordon made his way to the junior officer's side as she pulled something from the remains of metal and cement–

Black and yellow Kevlar flapped in the wind as the bells on a nearby buoy rang with the waves.

Simonds deposited the lump of fabric into Gordon's awaiting hands. He clutched it gently to his chest as Simonds dove back into the fray. It wasn't torn or ripped. It had stayed intact, as Kevlar was wont to do. He could only hope the usual wearer of said Kevlar was just as resilient.

The day had been a disaster of epic proportions.

When Joker had demanded his presence in Arkham that morning, Gordon had initially refused, not willing to play whatever sick game the clown had planned. But with the threat of civilian life came forced compliance. He just couldn't take the risk that the Joker wasn't bluffing about the bomb. The last time he'd taken that risk, one-hundred and sixty-eight people had died. He'd thought, with Joker locked away, with his influence barred from the rest of the world, he couldn't endanger anyone.

He'd been wrong.

No matter what precautions were taken, he could never be sure.

So, he'd met with the Joker.

He'd had no choice. With a police force as corrupt as Gotham's, he knew that things fell through the cracks. Things like plans for a bomb. Things like a detonator. Things like _dead robins pumped full of gas_.

They were still working that one out. _Someone_ on the force had gotten those birds into Joker's cell. _Someone_ had altered the video feed. And _someone_ had blasted a hole through the side of Arkham, killing several minimum-security prisoners in the process, to ensure Joker's escape.

Gordon wasn't going to stop until _someone_ was behind bars in Blackgate Penitentiary. They were lucky the remaining members of Robin's team had been unharmed in the blast.

Physically, at least.

When he and his men had burst in, weapons drawn, only to see four bodies among the rubble, he'd thought the worst. As it turned out, they'd only been knocked out by the gas from the robins' stomachs.

The Atlantean had been the first to come around. He'd immediately taken stock of the situation and slumped with the responsibility of losing two teammates, as leaders did. Gordon knew no words would lighten the burden, so he'd kept quiet.

They'd found the detonator that Robin had used to remotely disable the bomb, which was no longer hypothetical. It didn't take long for Gordon's team to locate the explosive after that, rigged to go off underneath the Gotham City Music Hall during the sold-out Summer Concert featuring the Kisnikey Brothers.

The place seated six thousand.

There was no telling how many people would have been killed or injured, certainly not all 6,000, but Gordon had never been one for hypotheticals. There was no way of knowing. It was all just guesswork. And it was thanks to Robin that they didn't have a solid body count.

Not at the Music Hall, anyway. There, at Gotham Pier, in the remains of the fishing containment building, the count was at six.

When Joker had made his demands that morning, Gordon had been more than outraged. It was one thing to demand his presence, or Batman's, but Robin's? Whom Batman was fiercely protective over, even as he took him into danger every night. Whom Gordon had come to feel his own brand of protectiveness over as he got to know him over the years. Whom his daughter had a poster of on her wall.

Gordon wasn't proud to admit that he'd wasted a lot of precious time trying to keep the kid out of it. He'd sent his men out to search for said bomb, he'd had Joker's cell turned inside out, he'd had Joker interrogated, but there'd been nothing.

His resigned call to Batman only made things worse. Batman couldn't come.

Gordon had seen Robin's face upon leaving Arkham the last time he'd been there, consequently, also the _first_ time, when he and Batman brought in Slade Wilson. The kid had been chalk-white. Batman's sturdy hand on Robin's back had seemed to be the only thing giving him the strength to leave the place with his head held high.

But this time Batman couldn't come.

Gordon liked Batman. He trusted him to do the right thing in matters of justice and the law. Batman trusted Gordon not to pry into his identity, and Gordon respected him enough to refrain from doing so. It also gave him the benefit of plausible deniability.

He'd never been closer to breaching that trust than five years ago when the kid had first arrived on the scene. He'd thought Batman was crazy. Still did, in fact. Screw the fact that Robin was incredibly skilled and apparently accustomed and well-adjusted to violence, the streets of Gotham were no place for a kid. With Batman, it was fine, he was a consenting adult. With the kid, Gordon had questions. Where were the kid's parents? What did they think he was off doing every night? If they knew, how could they let him? If they didn't, why the hell hadn't they noticed? Neither said anything good.

He'd been sure the kid was going to get himself killed, and he would blame himself just as much as he'd blame Batman when it happened, because he'd only watched as Batman brought a kid into their world of murder and crime.

But Robin had blown away Gordon's expectations.

Which brought him to his biggest question: what had happened to Robin that made him stare down the worst of Gotham with a hardness that Gordon only ever saw in veterans?

He'd been speculating on possible answers to this questions for years. Something had happened to Robin, something that forced him to see the dark side of humanity, and Batman had taken the kid and his rage and directed it where it would be most useful. Now, he didn't know if Batman was the kid's dad or _what_ , but he knew that there was more to their relationship than simply being partners in the field.

Time and time again, Robin proved himself, but Gordon always worried. Maybe he was just a natural worrier, or maybe Robin reminded him too much of his daughter. Maybe it was because the kid had grown on him, or maybe it was because, no matter how skilled you were or how long you'd been in the game, there was always the chance that someone bigger and stronger than you would come along and break your back. Maybe it was all of those things. At the end of it all, every time Gordon would turn on the Bat-Signal, Batman and Robin would come running. He'd fill them in, and they'd be gone. And Batman didn't always settle Gordon's nerves by returning when they were done. Gordon didn't always get the benefit of knowing that Robin was okay at the end of the night.

He learned to deal with it. The worry. And as time went on, he came to discover a way of knowing if Robin had been hurt. When they got the bad guy at the end of the night, if they came in with the typical damage that came with resisting Batman and Robin, then Gordon knew he didn't have to worry. If they came in beaten more than was necessary, Gordon might not see the kid for a few days, but he'd come back with that sideways smile and laugh off Gordon's concern as he jumped off the roof and did a triple front flip. It was when they found the bad guys beaten into unconsciousness or serious injury that Gordon really worried. Batman tended to take his anger out on whomever deserved it, without reservation. These were the instances where Gordon would contact Batman and ask for an update on the kid's condition. Anyone who made Batman that angry had done something unforgivable, and nothing made Batman angrier than Robin getting hurt.

It was a sick, messed up system, but it worked. Gordon learned to judge who had hurt Robin based on how badly Batman fucked them up.

Gordon wondered how different things would be if the real psychos got the death penalty. The problem was that they pleaded insanity every time, and every time it worked _because they were fucking insane_. It protected them from execution, and Batman would never kill.

But he'd come close. Gordon knew. He had a list.

The night Robin had been beaten by Two-Face, Gordon had recovered Harvey Dent half dead.

For years, Batman had been bringing in the Joker, and Gordon had always wondered if there was anything that could push him over the edge. After watching the Joker kill for _years_ , was there anything that could possibly give Batman that final push?

And then Dent happened.

And, again, purely hypothetical, so who the hell knew, but Gordon had a theory: if anything could push Batman over the edge, it would be Robin's death.

For so many years, Gordon had wished that Batman would bring Joker's body back. He wasn't proud of it. But he could only watch the monstrosities that man committed for so long before concluding that killing him was kinder. To Gotham. To Batman. He knew Batman's worldview. The first time Batman had brought in Firefly, Gotham had told him that any of the GCPD would have killed Lynns had they been in his situation, to which Batman said to him, and he would never forget it, "This city deserves better than that."

Gordon had no qualms about shooting Joker if the situation called for it. Sometimes cops had to get their hands dirty. The problem was, the clown was too damn good.

And then Dent happened.

And suddenly, Gordon didn't want Batman to bring the Joker's body back for a second, far more encompassing reason. If Batman ever killed the Joker, it would mean that Robin was dead. Because Gordon truly believed it was the only thing that would drive Batman to go that far. After _everything_ the Joker had done, and with the resounding fact that Batman hadn't cracked in the midst of it all… only the harshest, most cruel and personal attack could crack Batman's unwavering resolve.

He wondered if Batman would return with the Joker's body tonight.

How would they live with themselves? Because it had been a joint decision. How would he tell Barbara that her favorite superhero was dead because they'd let the Joker live? Barbara wouldn't understand. Gordon sure as hell didn't. They were trying _so hard_ to do the right thing… but he didn't always know what that was anymore.

"We've got another one!"

And their body count was up to seven. They were all fishermen, all dead at the whim of the Joker.

He hoped to God Batman didn't bring him the clown's body.

The last he'd heard, Batman, Superman, and the Flash had been on their way to Kid Flash and Catwoman's location in the Narrows. Robin had been M.I.A.

With… _epinephrine_.

Gordon knew that it was a peculiar habit of Batman's to carry extra adrenaline around with him, but he hadn't known that he'd passed the habit on to Robin.

He and Batman were going to have words, when all this was over.

Gordon approached the line of six bodies on the asphalt, all covered with white sheets. Three of his officers awkwardly carried the newest body and laid it gently down at the end of the line. He had obviously been dead for hours if rigor mortis had already set in. He wondered what they'd felt, in their last moments. Whether they'd heard him coming. If they'd tried calling for help. He wondered if the Joker had been quick, or if he'd taken his time…

They covered the newest body with a sheet. He wondered if he'd had a family. Wife. Kids. Friends that would miss him.

There was always a hole when someone died. There was always _someone_ who would grieve. Even for irredeemable people like the Joker…

Harley would be distraught.

Gordon didn't even want to think about what the backlash would be if Robin died, but, of course, considering the situation, it was all he _could_ think about.

Not even bothering to dwell on what it would do to Batman, he had to consider what it would do to _him_. To Gotham. To the Justice League.

To Kid Flash.

God, he could only imagine what the kid had already been through that day. And now, if Robin died… would Central City's junior hero be able to bounce back? They were both just kids…

And Robin's _team_ … How were they coping, with two of their teammates missing? How was the Atlantean leader, who already blamed himself for what happened? How would he cope if his _youngest member_ were to die?

He hated hypotheticals.

Batman had better fucking call him. If Gordon had to wait for Joker's body to show up, in whatever state it was in, to find out if Robin survived, he would never talk to the Caped Crusader again.

God, he sounded like his daughter.

Gordon clutched the Kevlar cape tighter to his chest. He'd seen the progression of Joker's… _obsession_ , though obsessed didn't even begin to cover it. Gordon had been there. For all of it. It had started with Batman, the man who wouldn't kill. Joker had been out to prove a point: that anyone could become him with the right sort of pressure. But it gradually became more than that. His desire to be seen by Batman… it was almost like it was the only thing in the world that validated his existence. Then Robin came into the picture. Joker was psychotic and cruel, but he wasn't… he didn't get _angry_. Not really. Everything was a joke, everything was meaningless, but Gordon had never seen Joker truly angry until he'd met Robin.

Joker _hated_ him.

But, as Joker's obsession with Batman had evolved, so did his hatred of Robin.

Gordon didn't know if it was a sick sense of rivalry over Batman's attention or what, but there was something about Robin that took his cunning and unpredictability and made him irrational. Any semblance of control that the Joker _did_ have was gone, rendering him predictable in one sense only: if Robin was there, Joker would drop everything to _have_ him. To possess him, like an object, like he'd stolen something precious from Batman.

It had been a means of getting to Batman, at first. But somewhere along the way, Gordon suspected that Joker's intentions warped. It wasn't just about Batman anymore. There was something about Robin, something that made Joker's control slip.

Damn him if he knew what it was, but it scared the hell out of Gordon. Scared him for the kid.

Gordon's phone rang, and he couldn't answer fast enough. "Batman!"

"Try again," said an amused voice.

"Barbara," he said, his mouth going dry.

"What's wrong?" she asked, sobering at the sound of his voice. "Dad, where are you?"

Gordon ran a hand through his hair. "I'm… at a crime scene."

"What's happened? Why are you waiting for a call from Batman?"

"Are you home?" he asked.

"No, I'm–"

"Go home," he said. "Lock the doors–"

"Dad–"

"Joker's out."

Barbara swore violently. "Again? Dad, how the hell does this keep happening?"

That was an excellent question. It seemed, no matter what new security measures were put in place at Arkham, none were strong enough to keep _any_ of the inmates secure for any extended period of time. Of course, it was hard to keep anything secure when you couldn't even trust the people who held the proverbial keys.

"Just get inside, all right?" he said. "I don't want you out, not while–"

"I'm sick of getting stuck on house arrest! It's not fair!"

"So invite a friend over," said Gordon, refusing to budge. An angry daughter was a small price to pay for an _alive_ daughter.

"Can I go to Dick's instead?"

Gordon hesitated. Don't get him wrong, he liked the Grayson boy, he just wasn't sure what he felt about her hanging out with a teenage boy in a place like Bruce Wayne's mansion where there were plenty of empty, private rooms.

"Dad, we're just friends," she said, and he could practically hear her eyes roll. "And even if we weren't, you've met him, right? You know he wouldn't try anything."

"Fine. You can go to Dick's. Only if Bruce is home," he said. "And only if he says it's okay."

"What was I gonna do, sneak in through the back?"

Gordon froze as another body was pulled from the rubble.

"Hey, you're safe, right?" she asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he said, tearing his eyes away. "Don't worry about me."

"The Joker–"

"He won't be coming back here," said Gordon. "Not after today."

"What happened?"

He had the sudden urge to tell her. To confess his worries. To seek her comfort. But that was selfish, and he wasn't about to burden her simply to make himself feel better. "Honey, I have to go. You be safe, all right?"

"Yeah," she said. "You too, Dad."

He hung up.

Their body count was at eight.

And there still hadn't been any news on Robin.


	10. The Agony of Waiting

Clark found him in a dead-end alleyway. Robin had expertly concealed himself in the dark, shadowed crack between two metal dumpsters. Clark never would have found him if he weren't Kryptonian.

"Robin?" he called.

Not a twitch. No indication that he'd been heard. _Enough_.

Clark lifted one of the dumpsters and set it down a few meters to the left, giving him the room he needed to reach him. Robin was curled up against the corner where the remaining dumpster rested against the wall. His hair was stringy with sweat and filth, and a permanent grimace was on his face. In pain even while unconscious.

A quick scan of his chest told Clark that they were running out of time. He carefully scooped Robin into his arms. It had been a long time since he'd worried about accidentally hurting someone with his strength. _Years_ , in fact. He'd forgotten what it felt like. How much the fear unsettled him.

He thought of Superboy– _Connor,_ he reminded himself–and how Dinah had recently confessed that his clone worried he might hurt his teammates when sparring.

"I've told you, I _am_ doing everything I can," Dinah had said hotly, "but I don't have super strength, Clark! I can only do so much!"

Superman had figured out how to control his strength on his own, in his own time, through strict discipline and restraint. He hadn't had anyone to teach him. He hadn't had a mentor. Superboy could figure it out on his own, too. Why was everyone blowing it out of proportion?

Dinah had glared at him with disapproval when he'd brought it up. "Because he _does_ have someone to teach him, but that someone is being a selfish asshole. And you had _time_ , Clark. You grew into your power. Connor hasn't had that time."

As Clark cradled Robin in his arms, terrified he would break at the smallest touch, he felt the beginnings of guilt creeping up in the back of his mind. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be afraid of himself. Perhaps a talk with Superboy was warranted.

Clark floated back to Batman and the others.

"Kid, _please_ , you need to sit down," Barry was begging, eyeing his nephew's blackened leg.

"I'm not doing _anything_ you say. Not until I know Robin is okay," said Wally. Clark could hear his heart _pounding pounding pounding–_

Then Wally caught sight of Robin and the fight drained out of him. Barry helped him to the ground as Batman marched up to Clark.

"Status?"

In the early stages of their relationship, Clark would have called that heartless. "Not good," he said, not wanting to give a full report, not with Wally right there. "He needs a hospital."

"I could have told you that," spat Wally.

"No hospital."

Barry looked at Batman incredulously. "No hospital? Batman…"

"And when the nursing staff take his mask off to check his pupils?" said Catwoman. "Bye-bye, Birdie."

"You stay out of this," said Batman.

"Batman, look at him," said Barry. "He needs a doctor–"

"And he'll get one," Batman turned to Clark. "You take Robin–"

"Flash is faster–"

"You take Robin to Mount Justice. Red Tornado and the others are already there." He turned to Flash. "I need you to fetch Dr. Leslie Thompkins from Gotham's East End Free Clinic and get her to Mount Justice on time. Can you do that?"

Flash nodded.

"Now!"

With a gust of air, Superman and the Flash were gone, leaving Wally alone with Batman and Catwoman, with neither showing any indication of moving any time soon. Wally was instantly uncomfortable.

"How's your leg?" asked Batman.

"Fine," said Wally, not looking at him.

Batman nodded, satisfied. "The Batmobile is on its way." He turned to Catwoman. "You can go."

"Not even a thank you?" she asked.

"For what?"

Ouch.

"For saving Speedy over here," she said hotly, pointing at him over her shoulder. "And your precious Boy Wonder." Wally noticed a hint of desperation in her face.

The lenses of Batman's cowl narrowed.

"She saved me from Mr. Freeze," said Wally, not sure why he was helping her. Hell, maybe they'd bonded. Or maybe he was just mad at Batman and willing to side with anyone who wasn't him. "I wouldn't have been able to contact Gordon without her."

Batman eyed Catwoman, considering this. "Thank you," he said, gruff.

Aw, short and sweet.

Apparently, it was more than enough for Catwoman. She grinned and pulled her goggles over her eyes and strode away. "Later, Speedy!" she called lazily with a wave, not bothering to look back. "Oh, and Batman," she turned around. "I expect an update on the kid's condition." She broke into a run and darted around a corner–and she was gone.

Wally wondered if he would ever see her again. He wondered if he wanted to.

There was the deep sound of an engine revving, getting louder as it approached. "I have to make a few calls," said Batman as the Batmobile pulled up next to them on the street. Wally gaped like a fish. "Get in."

Wally blinked. "What?"

Batman was already halfway in the driver's side, which was empty. Holy hell, was it remote control? "I said get in."

Touchy.

The armored car was everything Wally had ever dreamed it to be. Black as the shadows Batman operated in, and as full of cool gadgets as he'd imagined. He was sitting in the _freaking Batmobile_. He'd dreamed about this moment since he was a kid.

And all he wanted to do was geek out to Robin about it.

Wally's eyes stung, and he looked out the window as they moved down the dark streets of Gotham. Oh, for the love of–Why was he crying _now_? He wiped roughly at his eyes, keeping his face turned away from Batman.

His leg hurt, but it itched more than anything, which meant it was healing.

The buildings blurred together as they left Vulkar Street behind. Batman hit a button on the dashboard and the sound of a phone ringing resonated in the car's speakers. They drove past Arkham Asylum. Wally couldn't take his eyes off it.

"You'd better have some good news," came Gordon's gravelly voice from the speakers.

"We've recovered Robin and Kid Flash," said Batman. "Robin is on his way to receive medical attention."

There was a heavy breath of relief. "How bad?"

Wally snapped his head around to look at Batman.

"Bad."

Not a trace of emotion. It was hard to piece the two pictures he had of Batman together in his mind. There was the Batman the League saw, and the Batman Robin told Wally about. The one behind the mask. The one who worried and who laughed and who took Robin out for ice cream.

It was weird even thinking about this man doing anything other than beating the shit out of bad guys and intimidating the team when they made mistakes on missions. Wally could hardly imagine him as a father figure, or, God forbid, a mentor. The days Batman had been in charge of the team's training had been the worst days of Wally's life–not literally, obviously, Wally was a melodramatic person by trade, but he supposed it made sense. Batman and Robin kept up with the supers, and no human could do that without some serious training.

"Any sign of him?" asked Batman.

"None so far," said Gordon.

"I doubt you'll find him. He's too smart to blow himself up."

With a jolt, Wally realized they were talking about the Joker, which meant he was still on the loose. He felt sick to his stomach.

"Keep me updated," said Gordon, and it sounded more like a fleeting hope than anything.

"Batman out."

There was a beep as the call ended, but Batman wasn't wasting time. He hit another speed dial on the dashboard.

"I wondered when I'd be hearing from you," said a posh, older British voice. "Quite frankly, I was getting rather worried. I trust your off-world trip with Superman went well?"

"Alfred," said Batman. "Dick's hurt. Can you get to the Mountain? Leslie might need an extra set of hands."

"Oh dear. I shall leave post haste. Do drive safely, Master Bruce."

The line clicked, and the call ended.

"Kid Flash." Wally jumped. "I need you to tell me what happened."

Wally pressed his lips together. He didn't want to _think_ about it, much less talk about it with _Batman_.

Then, in a move that relaxed him, Batman pulled off his cowl and he was no longer looking at the emotionless face of Batman, but the worried face of Bruce Wayne. "Wallace. Please."

Wally swallowed, his mouth dry. "You saw Dick, didn't you? You saw what that bastard–" his voice cut off at the lump in his throat. He took a few deep breaths and looked out the window.

"What happened?"

"Joker happened!" snapped Wally, rounding to face Bruce. "He tied me up, and he made me watch! I couldn't do anything to stop it! I tried," Wally choked. "I _tried_ to save him, but I couldn't do _anything_. I couldn't… I'm sorry. _I'm sorry."_

"This isn't your fault."

Wally scoffed. "Joker gave him a choice. Rob or me. He could have gotten away."

"You and I both know he would never do that." Wally thought he heard a trace of frustration in Bruce's voice, like this was a recurring issue.

"He should have left me," said Wally softly.

"You got him out of there," said Bruce. "You saved his life."

Wally shook his head with a bitter laugh. "I couldn't do anything until it was almost too late. Some hero I am."

They reached Arkham Bridge and streaked across it, leaving the island behind, returning to the upper side of Gotham. Wally stared at the water, a strange emptiness filling him.

"He'll be okay," said Bruce.

"Yeah," breathed Wally, not believing it.

"There is another matter we need to discuss."

Wally furrowed his brow and eyed Bruce. "There is?"

"There is."

"Okay," he said slowly.

"The body that was found in the Narrows."

Wally blinked. He'd almost forgotten about the woman he and Catwoman had come across in their search for Robin. "What about it?"

"Don't tell Robin."

"Uh, sure," said Wally, frowning. "Any particular reason?"

"When I examined the scene–"

"You were there for like, two seconds," Wally muttered.

"I noticed that there were only footprints leading away. Two sets of them. And there were only two points of impact."

"You mean they fell?" Wally asked, horrified. Who knew what kind of damage a fall like that could do to somebody in Robin's condition.

"I mean there was another person with them."

Wally didn't see the issue. "And?"

Bruce let out a breath of impatience. " _And_ , that means three people fell off that roof. The only other point of impact was that of a grown man."

"So, Dick didn't fall off the roof?"

Bruce shot him a look and Wally felt a creeping cold in his veins. "You mean…"

"It wasn't the fall that killed her."

"Dick landed on top of her."

Bruce nodded.

"Oh," said Wally quietly.

"I'm sure he would understand, rationally, that he didn't kill her, but–"

"No, I get it," said Wally. "I won't say anything."

Bruce let out a breath and, for a moment, Bruce Wayne and Wally West were on the same page.

Until Wally remembered something that had been bothering him. "You know," he said, "he wouldn't have been able to get on the roof in the first place if he hadn't been hopped up on adrenaline."

Bruce shot him a calculating look before turning his eyes back on the road. "You sound like Clark."

Wally huffed.

"Disapprove or don't, I don't care," said Bruce. "Dick is alive a few times over because of that shot–Why am I even having this conversation with you?"

"Because it's barbaric."

"You're sixteen. You don't get a say in the matter."

Wally grumbled under his breath and turned to look out his window.

Bruce glanced his way as they weaved dangerously through traffic. "What did you say?"

"I said Robin's fourteen," said Wally hotly.

"Robin is smart enough to know that desperate times–"

"Call for desperate measures," said Wally, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, he said that, too."

Another silence, this one nowhere near as amicable.

He should keep his mouth shut. Nothing good would come of pursuing this topic of conversation– "I'm just saying, it's akin to child abuse."

Wally shrunk away from the glare sent his way, pressing himself against the passenger door. "This conversation is over." There was definite danger in Bruce's voice, and this time, Wally was smart enough to drop it.

They didn't talk the rest of the way to the Batcave.

Barry always felt a little bit bad when he whisked someone away at superspeed without warning. They didn't always handle it well. Dr. Leslie Thompkins, for instance, threw up all over the floor when he set her down in the Mountain common room.

M'Gann, Connor, Artemis, and Aqualad shot to their feet from the couch, their mentors standing over them protectively alongside Black Canary.

"Flash!" cried Dinah.

"Sorry," said Barry, steadying Dr. Thompkins with a hesitant hand. "I'm so sorry."

Dr. Thompkins groaned.

"So, so sorry."

She wiped her mouth and glared at him. "Where are we?" she asked.

"Never mind that," said Barry, turning to Oliver. "Are they here yet?"

"Is who here?" asked Oliver.

Dr. Thompkins' face paled. "Oh God, who's hurt? What's wrong? Is it Batman? Is he okay?"

"Batman's fine," said Barry.

"Did you find them?" asked Artemis.

"What the hell happened?" asked Connor.

"Are they all right?" asked Kaldur.

_"Recognized. Agent A."_

Barry spun around to see Alfred materialize in the zeta tube with a ridiculous mask over his face and a large black bag over his shoulder. "I do hope I am not too late."

Dr. Thompkins lit up. "Al–mmph!"

Barry clamped a hand over her mouth. "Agent A," he said pointedly. "what are you doing here?"

"Batman informed me that my skills may be required. Leslie, it is always a pleasure to see you. Though I do wish, for once, it would be under better circumstances."

Dr. Thompkins wrestled out of Barry's grip. " _What_ is going on?"

Red Tornado approached from down the hall. "I have readied the Medical Bay."

"Would somebody please tell me who's hurt?" cried Dr. Thompkins.

There was a light breeze, and there was Superman cradling Robin to his chest.

Dr. Thompkins deflated with a soft, sad "Oh."

But something was wrong. Something was wrong with Superman's face, because Clark should _never_ look like that–

"He's not breathing," he said in a panic. "He's not… he stopped breathing on the way over and I–I don't–"

Barry froze. M'Gann let out a choked cry, and Oliver swore. They were suspended for a moment in hopeless grief–

"You, Tin Can," Leslie barked, unapologetic, pointing at Red Tornado, "take us to the Med Bay. Superman, Agent A, you're with me. Let's move! Please tell me that bag is what I think it is."

Alfred held up his black shoulder bag as they hurried down the hallway. "I took the liberty of grabbing the essentials," said Alfred.

"You are a saint. Let's go! Superman, I'm gonna need you to lay him down flat and tilt his head back. We've got to keep that airway open."

The voices faded as the rest of them could only stand and wait.

"Oh my God," said Artemis, sinking into the couch.

Oliver exchanged a worried look with Barry as J'onn placed a steady hand on M'Gann's shoulder.

"Flash," said Aquaman, his usual loud, baritone voice subdued. "Where is Kid Flash?"

"On his way," said Barry. "He's with Batman. He's fine, he's… He'll heal."

"And Robin?" asked Kaldur.

Barry hesitated, and they all felt it. "He'll heal, too."

Kaldur clenched his hands into fists and stalked out of the room.

"Kal," said Artemis, starting after him, but Oliver gently grabbed her arm and shook his head.

Connor's head snapped to the direction of the Med Bay.

"Superboy?" said Barry, cautious.

"I don't hear his heart."

_"Recognized, Batman, 02. Kid Flash, B-03."_

Batman stepped out of the zeta tube, and Wally limped out behind him with his arms crossed tight over his chest.

"Well?" Wally barked when no one spoke. "How's Robin?"

Everyone looked to Connor.

"He's upstairs," said Dinah, stepping forward. "Dr. Thompkins and Agent A are with him."

The lenses in Batman's cowl narrowed. "That's not what he asked."

There were a few more surreptitious glances in Connor's direction. "Supey," said Wally, "what's wrong?"

Connor kept his gaze on the floor. "He's…"

Wally went white.

Batman ran off in the direction of the Med Bay.

"Batman, wait!" cried Dinah, running after him. "You'll only get in the way!"

Wally dropped to his knees.

Barry knelt down in front of his nephew and placed a hand on his head in comfort, before letting it drop down to his shoulder. "They're trying to save him, Wally."

A few tears fell from Wally's bowed head. Barry pulled him into an embrace. Wally did nothing to return it. He didn't move. He didn't make a sound.


	11. And the World Stands Still

Wally sat slumped against the wall with his legs tucked to his chest. He rested his head on his knees and hugged his arms around himself as he waited. Barry had tried to get him to go lie down, but Wally had point blank refused.

He didn't know where the team was. He didn't care. He was just glad they weren't approaching him. He didn't want to talk to them. He didn't want to look at their faces. He didn't want to think.

He saw them and their faces warped with fear and concern, but _they didn't know._ They weren't _there._ They had _no fucking clue–_

He didn't want to think.

He knew he wasn't being fair. That it was, in part, the trauma that was talking. But the other side of him disagreed, because they didn't know Robin like he did. They didn't know _half_ of him.

Fifty-fucking-percent.

They didn't have a clue, and it wasn't their fault, but Wally resented them, because they were only fifty-percent worried. If Robin died, they would lose a comrade, a teammate, a friend…

But they wouldn't grieve the other half.

The half that was a total math geek. The half that loved the circus. The half that was an orphan, yet at the same time, wasn't. The half that was a basketball genius. The half that hated the attention of the press, yet still managed to charm the world.

The other half of his best friend.

The half that was Dick Grayson.

Because yes, they were the same person, but for security reasons, Rob had to lock away that half of himself lest his secret identity bleed through the mask. Wally knew that it hurt Robin to hide who he was from his friends, but he hadn't known just how much until long after Robin had removed his mask in front of him.

Wally's entire family knew that he was Kid Flash. He hadn't been able to tell his friends at school that he was a superhero, but he'd never really minded, because there hadn't been anyone he'd wanted to tell, sans for bragging rights, and he'd never been restricted from telling other superheroes his secret identity like Robin had. So, he hadn't understood. Not really. Not for a long time.

But as he'd gotten to know Robin as Dick Grayson, the big picture only got clearer and more depressing. Only two people in the world had known about Rob's double life: his guardian, and his guardian's guardian. Later, Superman and the Flash, but…

No one who wasn't an authority figure. No one his age. No one who was just a friend.

Because it went the other way, too. His friends from the other side, friends like Barbara Gordon, they only knew fifty percent, too. He was half of himself at school. He was half of himself at the mountain. How exhausting was it, never being able to just _be_? To constantly hide part of himself, constantly having to keep track of Robin and Dick Grayson and keep them _separate_. There had to be someone other than emotionally constipated _Bruce Wayne_ that he could be all of himself around, where he could let the mask fall away.

Wally suspected that the only reason Batman had been okay with Wally knowing their identities (granted, it did take a while) was because of the change it brought about in Robin. The secrets and the lies weighed down his ward in a way that they never had for Batman. Seeing the effects in person when Wally was finally permitted to visit the manor was what finally softened that hard exterior wrapped in Kevlar.

Robin had needed _someone_.

And Wally would forever be honored and grateful that someone was him.

Robin could have told anyone. Barbara. Roy. Kal.

But he'd chosen Wally West. The science geek. The hyperactive redhead that spoke a mile a minute and ate his own weight in food daily.

The day Robin had removed his mask for him was the day they had become best friends.

And now, his best friend was dying. But the fact that nobody had come out to deliver any news meant that there was still a chance. That he was still fighting.

Wally bit back a sob. He squeezed his arms tighter around himself and tried to drown out the world around him. He wondered how long he'd been sitting there, outside the doors to the Med Bay. Time could literally crawl for speedsters. He hadn't been able to achieve Flash-Time yet, like his Uncle, but with his luck, he'd probably figure it out now and get stuck suspended in this moment forever–

Well. Not forever. Flash-Time did have its limits. But it sure felt like forever. His leg was healed, so there was proof that some time, at least, had passed.

Light footsteps.

Wally kept his face buried, not bothering to pretend he wasn't crying because what was the fucking point?

_Just keep walking. I don't want company. Go away. I don't want –_

He heard the person sit on the floor across from him and he wanted to scream.

A whiff of home.

"Go away, Barry," said Wally, his voice clawing its way out of his throat.

"Not a chance."

Wally dragged his head from his arms and glared.

Barry, mask off, just looked at him sadly. "You gotta stop crying, Kid."

Wally wanted to punch him.

"You've given up before the fight is even over."

Wally was on his feet before he even registered that he was shouting. "It _is_ over! There's nothing else I can do!"

"He's still alive, Wally."

Wally's breath caught in his throat. Speed force flooded him, and he turned and punched the wall with super speed. Pieces of stone crunched and flung outward, one piece cut his cheek where it stung.

"He's strong–"

"You all keep saying that," Wally spat. "That he's strong. That he can fight this. _I know he's strong_. I know, all right?"

"Don't give up on him."

Wally felt a deadly calm settle within him. "You think I've given up on him?" There had been a reason Wally hadn't wanted company. Right now, he didn't care who he hurt.

Barry looked taken aback. "No, that's not what I–"

"You think I would abandon him?"

"I didn't say that, Wally!" said Barry, angry now, getting to his own feet. "I'm only saying you need to stop grieving before anything's even happened–"

" _Everything_ has happened!"

" _Robin's not dead!_ "

Wally fixed him with an icy stare. "Did you know Joker has a crowbar he only uses on Robin?"

Barry froze.

"He keeps it with him. Just in case. He enjoys it. He said screams are music to his ears, but that Robin's are his favorite."

"Stop it, KF," said Barry, his voice soft.

"He loves it so much, he can't control himself," said Wally. "He had to leave the room to stop himself from killing Rob _too early_."

"I said that's enough."

"Did you see the birds in his cell? 'Cause I got a nice look up close."

"KF."

"Vivisection. Of _robins_. Some of them were tortured with precision. The rest were completely mutilated, like he'd been caught up in some sick fantasy and couldn't stop. Back in that building, Joker would have killed him. Rob pushed his luck, and if I hadn't phased when I did, he'd be dead. Joker was hitting him over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over–"

" _Wally!_ "

"I haven't fucking abandoned him! And I know he's strong, but I am allowed to cry because I was _scared_. And I'm allowed to grieve because of what that bastard did to him. So just leave. Me. Alone."

"It's okay to be scared," said Barry, looking pained. "I never meant… I just didn't want you giving up hope."

"I can't lose him," said Wally, and the anger was gone as quick as it had come.

"You're not gonna lose him."

And again, Wally felt the ire rise. The need to be violent. Rarely was his rage so close under the surface. He pushed it back and grit his teeth. "If Rob dies–"

"He won't–"

"Stop it," snapped Wally. "You think I wanna think about this? It makes me sick. But if he dies… I have to prepare myself or it's going to kill me too. I'm not giving up on him, I just… I can't…" He sank back to the floor and tucked his knees to his chest. "Just go away. Please."

He knew he'd probably hurt Barry with this pointless fight, but he didn't have any room left in his heart to care. It wasn't Barry's fault. They had different ways of dealing with these types of situations. Barry needed hope. Wally recognized the danger of too much.

So, Barry left.

Wally stared at the floor. He wondered if a long surgery was a good thing, and for the first time since Arkham, he felt something akin to concern for the rest of his team.

Connor, who'd only been alive for a _year._ All he knew was the team. They were his friends and family in one. He'd met Robin as one of his saviors from Cadmus. He'd nearly crushed Robin's chest, when they'd first met. Wally had freaked when he'd found out later, and since Rob refused to tell Batman lest he disband the team before it had even begun, Wally had been the one Robin had gone to for help. Wally wasn't that experienced at medical care, since he and Barry healed so quickly, so he'd done a pretty piss-poor job at wrapping his friend's ribs, but Robin had let out a breath of relief and a smile and forgot all about the incident.

Wally didn't forget. He'd been wary of Superboy for a long time, but as more and more time passed, he realized that he didn't have to worry for two reasons. One: Robin was a quick study. After a few sessions on the sparring floor, Superboy never beat him again. And two: Robin may have forgiven and forgotten, but like Wally, Superboy never forgot. Wally saw the guilt in Connor's eyes, sometimes, when he looked at Robin. And he also saw when assuaging guilt became protecting a friend.

They were all Connor had. Losing Robin might thrust Connor back into that world of confusion and distrust that he'd been in when they recovered him from Cadmus, where everything he knew suddenly changed.

And Artemis. When it came to light just who Artemis' father was, they'd all been surprised, all except for Robin. He'd known. Of course he'd known. And that, more than anything, was what had appealed the team to Artemis' side. Robin had known, and he'd still trusted her.

Even when it had been just the two of them against the Reds. Even as Artemis had considered fleeing and leaving Robin to fight alone, he had trusted her to have his back.

Robin had given her something the rest of the team had not been able to: unconditional trust. The idea of it had been so foreign to her. Wally had seen it on her face, after this had come to light; she'd only been able to look at Robin with a mix of awe and disbelief. And as the disbelief wore off, it became obvious whom she preferred to be partnered with on missions. Her trust in him had become so absolute that it was almost reverence.

Losing the person she trusted most in the world might damage the progress she'd made in trusting others. In trusting the team. In letting someone else have her back.

M'gann. Sweet and naïve… She'd been exposed to the raw minds of some of the most violent criminals in the underworld. What horrors had she seen? She may have been protected from seeing the Joker torture Robin as Wally had, but she'd seen other things. Memories. And she'd seen what they _wanted_ to do to Robin. M'gann had incredible mental strength, and Wally would bet that most of what she'd seen hadn't leaked through the mind link.

Losing Robin now would leave her with the last memories of her dear friend hate-filled, sadistic dreams and desires of the damned. How would she recover from that?

Then there was Kaldur'ahm, who was leader. Kaldur, who was responsible for the lives of the team. Kal, who had known Robin almost as long as Wally had.

Wally knew that losing the youngest member of his team would so severely damage his belief in his own ability to lead that he would step down, perhaps even leave the team for good. And without a leader, they would fall apart.

And Wally? Wally would lose his best friend.

The door next to him opened, and he jumped.

"Master Wallace, I believe you were told to lie down."

"How is he?" Wally asked, scrambling to his feet. Alfred looked weary and older than Wally had ever seen him. "Is he…?"

"He is alive," said Alfred with a sigh. "The next thirty-six hours will be critical."

Thirty-six hours… So, he could still not make it…

"You can sit with him, if you'd like."

Wally's heart jumped, and suddenly the room he'd been so desperate to enter seemed that much more foreboding. "I don't… shouldn't Batman–?"

"Batman isn't here."

There was a sinking in his gut. " _What?"_

"He felt his time would be better spent searching for the Joker." And Wally could tell by the tone in Alfred's voice what a load of crap he thought _that_ was.

"Rob is… Rob could be dying, and he _left_?"

The anger bubbled under the surface again as Batman hit strike three. One for sending Robin to Arkham, one for the stupid epinephrine, and one for _leaving_.

Wally shrugged his way past Alfred into the medical bay with rage in his heart. If Bruce wasn't going to be there for Robin, then Wally sure as hell fucking would.

Robin was tucked in bed under a thin, white blanket, hiding most of the damage from view. All Wally could see were inconspicuous wires and tubes protruding from the blanket, and the bruises and bandages on his friend's face around his mask.

He looked better than Wally had expected. He could almost pretend that nothing was wrong.

Except _'the next thirty-six hours will be critical.'_

Critical. Uncertain prognosis. Unstable. Death could be imminent.

He eyed the chart at the foot of the bed. All of his questions, and the answers were right there.

But he decided that he didn't want to know. Not yet. Knowing what kind of damage was inside of his friend… it would solidify things. It would put names to the damage that Joker had done, and Wally didn't want to acknowledge that.

If Batman was going to be a bastard and not be there, he'd better fucking catch that clown or Wally would never forgive him.


	12. The Sufferings of M'gann M'orzz

She felt the warm, gentle probing at the edges of her mind and relaxed into the cushions of the couch. After the sharp, hot, slicing thoughts that had invaded her that day, J'onn's presence was a soothing balm.

"You do not appear to have suffered any permanent damage," said J'onn and the warmth receded, bringing some of the sting back with it.

M'gann's mind was still painful and raw, and J'onn had been monitoring her closely ever since he had come to the Mountain at Batman's behest. "I really am fine, Uncle J'onn," she said, placing a hand on his arm.

"Your pain tells me otherwise," said J'onn.

"Don't worry about me," said M'gann. She couldn't bear it.

"You are troubled."

"He is my friend," she said, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes.

J'onn considered this. "While it is true that his condition weighs heavily on your mind, I sense another source of unease."

M'gann's gaze fell to the floor. "Something happened, today. We're telepaths, and likeminded beings are a threat to us, but I never thought the mind of a human could be so dangerous."

There was the sinking of cushions as he sat down next to her. "Did I ever tell you about the first time I encountered the Joker?"

She jerked her head up to look at his face, as calm and impenetrable as ever. "No."

"It was long ago, when the League was stationed here. The Joker followed one of our own, Lucas Carr, into the Mountain where he set a trap for our return. I am ashamed to admit I was of little use in apprehending him."

"What happened?"

"He took out the Flash, then he came for me. I intended to stop the fight before anyone else got injured. Had I heeded Batman's warnings, perhaps I would not have been incapacitated as I was…" J'onn shook his head. "His physical attacks did nothing against me. Had I chosen to fight with my body instead of my mind, I could have saved the others much pain and suffering. But it is as you said, M'gann, we are telepaths. I stuck with what I was most comfortable, with what I knew. I entered his mind. There was a torrent of pain and madness, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up, sore and confused, at the battle's end. I was an inconvenience to my comrades that day. You musn't think less of yourself because of what happened. Despite their not being telepaths, human minds possess their own strength. To this day, I cannot penetrate Batman's mental defenses." J'onn tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her on the forehead. "You are not weak, M'gann. What happened today was my fault. I should have passed this lesson onto you, and I am sorry."

M'gann wiped her eyes. "I think… I really hurt Robin, today, J'onn. I made him remember horrible things…"

"Being in that place with those people would have brought those memories to the surface."

"He probably hates me."

"He does not."

M'gann latched on to the words, desperately. "How can you know?"

"Because he does not hate me… and I may have dealt him the worst damage possible."

J'onn's face screwed up with lingering guilt, and M'gann gaped. "What did you do?"

"It concerns his ID, so forgive me for being discreet. Batman wanted me to train Robin to block mental attacks. He adapted remarkably quickly. Only one thing slipped through his hasty defense. It was the image of… someone who was very important to him. He had successfully blocked my attack, so I should have stopped there, but I admit I was… frustrated that a nine-year-old had so easily learned defenses that we Martians take years honing and perfecting. Granted, had I used more brutal methods, I am sure I could have broken through, but I could not employ those methods on a child, no matter how hard Batman told me to be on him.

"I may have done far more damage with the method I employed. To put a crack in his defense, I took the physical shape of the person I'd glimpsed in his mind. It was not until much later that I learned the significance of this person in Robin's life.

"Far from putting a crack in his mental defense, it solidified. Nothing could have broken through. But the damage was done. The look on his face… I was sure I'd lost his trust and respect forever. Batman stopped the lesson. I had gone too far."

"But he forgave you?"

"He thanked me. For not holding back." J'onn looked at the ceiling, like he wished he could see through walls like Superman to check on the small hero. "I used the image of someone he loved against him, on purpose, and he did not blame me. You made him revisit past traumas by accident, and you experienced them at his side. He will not blame you."

M'gann stood from the couch. "Thank you, J'onn."

"Just because the surgery is over does not mean you can go see him."

She froze.

J'onn sighed. "Just don't be seen."

M'gann grinned, turned invisible, intangible, and shot up through the ceiling. She hovered on the next floor and gathered her bearings, then flew down the hallway towards the medical bay. She hesitated outside when she didn't see Wally. As far as she knew, he'd refused to move from that spot since Robin had been brought to the Mountain.

She had no idea where Kaldur had run off to. Or Artemis. She knew Connor was blowing off steam in the training hall. And Robin…

She phased through the wall.

Robin was tucked carefully under the covers in the corner bed, with Wally talking quietly in a chair at his side.

Brushing off the jealousy from Wally being allowed to visit Robin, M'gann hovered closer. She was careful to be silent. The only sounds in the room were the steady beeping of Robin's heart monitor and Wally's soft words.

Wally was leaned forward in his chair with Robin's hand clasped in his own. "–and I know you're not one for hugs or anything like that, but I am, and you know that, so you'd better humor me when you wake up because I am going to hug you every single day for a month. Two months. Maybe three. Depends how long it takes for you to make up for all the crap you pulled today. I'd hug you now, but you're kind of broken, and it takes half the fun out of it if you're not awake, so… so you'd better wake up, okay?"

She wondered what Robin had to make up for.

"You owe me dinner, Dude," said Wally. "Lots of dinners. And you'd better believe I'm gonna collect. We haven't hung out just us as friends in a while, so while you're barred from patrol to recover, I am going to take full advantage of the situation. I'm talkin' sleepovers, video games, movies, pizza, ice cream, the works! It'll be good for you, we'll get you out of Gotham…" Wally trailed off, and a haunted look passed over his face.

A wave of guilt washed over M'gann as she realized she was witnessing something incredibly personal.

She shouldn't be there.

She fled from the room. She paid no attention to where she was headed, she only phased through room after room after room–

She stopped only when she found herself facing Kaldur'ahm. Sweat dripped from his temple as he ruthlessly attacked a punching bag in one of the private training rooms. The anger and anguish on his face had her solidifying her body and dropping to the ground.

She reached out a hand. "Kaldur–"

Kaldur spun with a fist pulled back and ready–

She jumped away with a cry of alarm.

"M'gann," said Kaldur, dropping his fist. "I did not hear you enter."

"Sorry," she said, "that's my fault."

Kal grabbed a towel and wiped his face. "We have all been worried about you. What did Martian Mahnunter say?"

"No permanent damage," she said. "In a few hours, I'll be right as rain."

"That is a relief to hear."

"I saw Robin," she blurted.

Kaldur froze.

"I snuck in. Wally's with him. He's out of surgery."

"I heard. He's critical."

M'gann wilted. "Yeah…"

"Thank you for coming to tell me. If that is all–"

"That's not why I came."

Kal stared at her.

"I just–You looked sad."

He turned away and hung the towel over his neck. "Please do not take this the wrong way, M'gann, but I am not feeling up for company right now."

"But… you shouldn't be alone."

"And if I want to be alone?" There was something dangerous there.

M'gann swallowed. "Then… I'm sorry, but I'm not leaving." She plopped herself down on the bench by the wall.

For a second, Kaldur looked angry, but his calm returned as he headed to the door. "Then I will leave."

M'gann jumped to her feet to follow–

He rounded on her, a snarl on his lips. "Must I spell it out for you? I do not want you here."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "You, and Connor, and Artemis–This is when we should be together! We're all hurting! You should see Wally… We need our leader to guide us–"

"I am not qualified to be leader."

"Kal–"

"We have all known from the start that I was temporary. It was always going to be Robin. But after today–"

"Today wasn't your fault."

"And that is what you don't understand," said Kaldur and his voice turned hard. "When you are leader _, everything_ is your fault. Now, please, leave me."

M'gann's insides boiled. "A leader doesn't get to quit when it gets rough. You want to quit? You do it when Robin's better. You don't do it when we're a team member down! It's not fair."

"I cannot be who you need me to be!" His voice rang hard in the room. "A leader is strong. A leader knows what must be done. _I cannot be that person today_. Robin is one of my oldest friends. I cannot… I cannot be a pillar of strength and support while I am like this." He brought a hand to his face as it crumpled. He took deep, calming breaths.

M'gann pulled him into an embrace. She felt him relax. "We don't need you to be a pillar of strength," she said into his shoulder, breathing in the smell of saltwater. "We just need you."

They parted, and Kaldur looked at her apologetically. "You said Wally was with Robin?"

M'gann nodded.

"How is he?"

She thought of Wally, and the haunted look in his eyes as he begged Robin to wake. "Not good."

"And the others?"

"Connor's angry," she said. "He's been running combat simulations for hours. Nobody knows where Artemis stormed off to."

"And you are truly all right?"

"My head hurts," she admitted. She thought of Robin burning in a fire, a gun shoved down his throat, and beat bloody by Two-Face. "And I might not be able to sleep well for a while."

Kal nodded in understanding. "I think we are all going to have some trouble with that."

"You _are_ a good leader, Kal," she said.

"Not today, I wasn't," he said quietly. 

They found Connor right where she said he'd be, in the training room running a simulation. But it wasn't his usual simulation of choice.

It was Robin's.

Instead of beating the crap out of bad guys, he was exercising stealth. But, judging by the frustrated look on his face and the electronic score on the board, he wasn't doing well.

They watched as he tripped another alarm and his score dropped into the double digits. His timer dropped to zero, and he ended with a score of seventy-two. It didn't even get placed on the roster. Robin's perfect score of eight hundred was displayed brightly at the top. Robin bragged about that score whenever it even remotely fit in conversation.

Connor saw them and ran over. "How is he?"

"He's okay," said M'gann.

"Is Batman back yet?"

She felt a sinking in her chest. "What do you mean? Where did he go?"

"I overheard him arguing with Superman a few hours ago. I guess he went after the Joker."

Kaldur looked troubled.

"Shouldn't he be here?" said M'gann.

"It is most unusual," said Kaldur. "However, Batman's actions are not our concern."

"Have you seen Artemis?" asked M'gann.

Connor shook his head.

"We should find her. M'gann is right, we need the support of each other in these dark times," said Kaldur.

"Split up and meet back in ten?" suggested M'gann.

They nodded and went their separate ways. Kal really was a good leader. It hurt her to know that he didn't think so.

M'gann flew around the Mountain searching for Artemis. Between the three of them, ten minutes should be plenty of time to locate their rogue archer.

As it turned out, all they needed was two.

M'gann found her on the floor of Robin's bedroom. He rarely spent the night at the mountain, almost always in Gotham, so it was incredibly sparse. Just a made bed and a dresser. The only sign that anyone spent any time in there at all was the spare Robin mask and set of sunglasses on the bedside table.

Artemis sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against the foot of Robin's bed, one of his hoodies clutched in her lap.

"Artemis!"

Artemis stared at the hoodie in her hands. "I still just can't believe that any of this is happening."

"He's resting now," said M'gann.

"Out of surgery doesn't mean anything," said Artemis, bitter. "He could still die and none of us could do anything about it."

"Oh, don't say that!"

"It's true," grumbled Artemis. She clutched the hoodie in a tight fist and jumped to her feet. "If he dies before he tells me his secret ID, I'm gonna be pissed!"

"I was worried about you," said M'gann.

"Well, cut it out," snapped Artemis, "I'm perfectly fine. Way better than Wally's gonna be if he doesn't spill about what happened, soon. I'm losing my mind from all this waiting! Where is he, anyway? Is he still sulking in the hallway?"

"He's with Robin–"

" _What!_ " Artemis stalked out of Robin's room, his hoodie in a crumpled ball in her hand. M'gann hastened to follow. "That bastard! We're allowed to visit, and he doesn't tell us? He's just trying to keep Robin to himself again, isn't he? Just because they're best friends doesn't mean he gets to hog him!"

"I don't think anyone else has been cleared to visit–"

"Screw that! If Baywatch is allowed in, I'm going, too."

M'gann sent a heads up to Kaldur and Connor through the mind link and hurried after Artemis.

Superman, Dr. Thompkins, and Agent A were outside the med bay when they arrived, talking in hushed voices.

Artemis stalked right up to the door.

"No visitors," said Dr. Thompkins, stepping in front of her.

"Wally's in there," said Artemis.

"Wally was given permission," she said, not budging an inch. "Robin's still critical. Only one visitor at a time."

"Well, which is it, one visitor, or no visitors?" asked Artemis as she crossed her arms over her chest. "If Wally is an exception, I can be one, too."

M'gann saw Connor and Kaldur round the corner and head their way.

Leslie stepped forward with a scowl. "No exceptions. If you think you can change my mind, look into my eyes and try. I work with Batman, and if you think for one second I'm gonna be strong-armed by _you_ , you have another thing coming."

The staring contest was short. Artemis was the one to back down.

"Can we at least see him?" M'gann asked as Connor and Kaldur joined their side.

Leslie looked ready to say no, but Agent A put a hand on her shoulder. "I think a quick look inside would not be amiss."

Leslie grit her teeth. She opened the door. "You have one minute. Do _not_ make me come get you."

Wally was asleep in his chair, the upper half of his body resting on Robin's bed, with Robin's hand still clutched in his own. The circles under the speedster's eyes were dark and prominent, and he twitched in his sleep.

Robin's face was bruised and lax in unconsciousness.

The heart monitor beeped steady.

They left before their minute was up. It seemed that whatever had transpired between Robin and Wally that day had made intruding on them seem like an invasion of something incredibly private. Whatever this was, it was intimate and fragile, and the four of them could not bear to approach, or even stay in the same room.

Even Artemis voiced no protests as they left.

Without a word, they found themselves side-by-side on the couch in the common room. Artemis draped Robin's hoodie around M'gann's shoulders. It smelled like Robin. She clutched it tightly around herself and breathed in. She leaned against Connor, and his strong arm snaked around her shoulders and held her tight.

Wally was still in fight or flight mode. Robin might not make it through the night. There was no room for the four of them in that room, too.

But that was okay. They would wait. They would be there when reality caught up with Wally, and they would be there when Robin woke up.


	13. Wake-up Call

The last of the bodies were loaded onto stretchers, car doors were slammed shut, and Gordon was left in the dust as the majority of his workforce departed. The area was roped off, evidence was bagged and tagged, and his people were headed back to the station for a long, uneasy night full of paperwork and phone calls from terrified citizens claiming to have seen the Joker at their local shopping mart.

Gordon removed his glasses to massage the area around his eyes with a long, drawn out sigh. Until Joker was back in Arkham, he and his men weren't going to get a moment's rest. The only silver lining of the whole situation was that the news teams, despite them being all over Joker's breakout, had not yet caught wind of their crime scene, so they'd been able to do their job without interference from the press.

A small mercy.

There was the flutter of a cape.

"Any sign of him?" asked Batman.

"None. How is he?"

"Alive."

Gordon lit a cigar and took a long drag. "He gonna be back in the field anytime soon?"

"Not likely."

Gordon nodded. They stared at the rubble of the collapsed building, the ocean wind pulling at their clothes. "I take it you haven't had any luck, either."

"Joker's gone underground," said Batman. "He probably doesn't intend to surface again until this dies down."

"Intend?"

"I'll drag him from the gutter by morning."

Gordon huffed out a short laugh. "I don't doubt it."

"You're not going to tell me I should be at Robin's side?"

Gordon regarded him from the corner of his eye. "Do you want me to?"

"Joker needs to be taken care of."

"I know that," said Gordon, tapping ashes from the tip of his cigar for them to scatter in the wind. "Robin knows that, too."

"He's in the best hands. Sitting at his side won't change anything."

"Are you trying to convince me?"

"I want to be there when he wakes up."

Gordon blew out a long string of smoke. "Then put that bastard behind bars and get back before he wakes."

Batman nodded, and some of the tension released from his shoulders.

Gordon's phone rang, and he pointed at Batman as he rummaged in his pocket. "Don't go anywhere." He turned away and answered his phone. "Gordon."

"Dad! I know you're busy but I'm really worried and I'm just not sure what to do because it's probably not even a big deal but he's not answering his phone and I can't get ahold of–"

"Barbara! Slow down," said Gordon. "What's wrong? Are you at Dick's?"

There was a sharp movement from Batman in his peripheral.

"No," said Barbara, and she sounded so distressed it broke his heart, "Dad, that's just it, I can't get ahold of him at all! It's so unlike him, and I have a really bad feeling, and no one is answering the phone at the manor. Just, please, tell me you've caught the Joker."

Gordon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in a weak attempt to ward off his growing headache. "We haven't."

There was a high-pitched squeal of distress and Gordon held the phone away from his ear.

"Alfred always answers that phone!" she said. "And Dick always answers his, or he at least texts me back. Look, Dad, I know it sounds like I'm being paranoid, but you know how careful Mr. Wayne is about Dick's safety. With Joker out, do you honestly think they'd be anywhere but the manor? So why isn't anyone answering the phone?"

"There could be any number of reasons," said Gordon.

"I know that," said Barbara, her voice hardly a whisper in her worry. "But Dick… Joker's gone after him before."

Gordon sighed. "I know. I'll try to contact Mr. Wayne if it'll make you feel better, but Barbara, there's no point worrying yourself over a hypothetical. I'm sure Dick is fine."

"Okay."

"Now, you stay inside and stay safe, all right?"

"All right."

"Barbara, please, don't cry–"

"I'm not crying," she snapped.

"I love you, Sweetheart."

"Love you. Be safe."

Gordon ended the call with a weary sigh.

"Something wrong?" asked Batman.

"No," said Gordon. "Yes. I don't know. My daughter just… worries."

Batman just looked at him, so Gordon took it as a 'yes, I see, please continue.'

"You know that Grayson kid? Barbara can't get ahold of him, and she so kindly reminded me that Joker has gone after him before. I'm not asking you to look for him–"

"I'll keep an eye out."

Gordon let out a breath. "Thank you." The thought of another kid getting wrapped up in the Joker's shit that night didn't sit well in his stomach. Grayson was… he was a good kid. "Oh, that's right," he said, pulling out Robin's cape. "We found this."

Batman hesitated before grabbing the Kevlar like it would crumble if he held it too tight.

Gordon looked away, his throat tight. "Go catch that bastard."

Batman left without a sound, and all Gordon was left with were his thoughts. Damned traitorous thoughts about the last time Joker had gotten a hold of Dick.

It was different when it was a kid. A _civilian_ kid. A civilian kid that he _knew_ , even liked.

Dick's life had been nothing short of tragic. Gordon remembered the day he'd met him: Dick's parents had just been killed and he was sent to a Juvenile Hall for no damned good reason other than 'the orphanages were full.' In other words, the state was too cheap to provide proper care to a traumatized kid. Gordon wouldn't lie; he'd lost sleep thinking about that sweet, innocent kid being left in a violent detention center so soon after his parents' deaths.

Then Bruce Wayne took him in, and Gordon had stopped having nightmares about those big, blue eyes pleading for help, and that was that. There was the occasional tabloid about the kid in the papers, but it was a world away.

Until Barbara brought home her new best friend.

And Richard Grayson, the tragic Romani circus orphan who sometimes popped up in the tabloids became Dick, Barbara's strange friend that she'd bring over for dinner unannounced about once a week.

And Dick _was_ strange. Remarkably so. He was a frighteningly intelligent ball of energy with a morbid sense of humor, and Gordon didn't know what to make of him half the time.

He still didn't. Not really. The kid had been kidnapped, ransomed, beat up, targeted by the Joker for God's sake, and he still shined brighter than half the kids his age. When Joker had gotten ahold of him, Gordon had thought for sure that it would be the final straw that would break him.

But the kid bounced back.

The odds of Dick being involved again tonight were incredibly low, but Barbara had stirred up his paranoia. He was a cop, he wasn't supposed to act on conjecture, but before he was even aware he was doing it, Gordon had his phone to his ear.

" _You've reached Bruce Wayne. Leave a message. If this is a business matter, please call my secretary at Wayne Enterprises."_

 _Beep_.

"Bruce," said Gordon, making his way over to his car and putting out his cigar. "It's Jim. I'm sure you've seen the news, so I'll cut to the chase. Barbara's worried. Could you have Dick call her, please?" He took one last look over the crime scene. "You as well. Call me when you get this." He ended the message and tossed his phone into the passenger seat as he got in the car just as a few drops of rain tapped the windshield.

Another dreary night in Gotham.

_"Recognized: Red Arrow B-06."_

Roy stormed into Mount Justice with a scowl on his face and fire in his step. The Mountain was full of heroes, from the team to members of the Justice League, and they all looked up as he stomped his way past them, past Superman, past the Flash and Wonder Woman and straight up to Green Arrow.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he barked.

"Roy–"

"Shut up! Where's Wally?"

"He's with Robin–"

Roy stalked off for the medical bay.

Oliver let out a breath. "That could have gone better."

Roy flipped him off over his shoulder.

Oliver hastened to catch up and put a hand on his shoulder–

Roy slapped it off and rounded on him. "I had to find out on the _fucking news_." He threw his hands in the air, "Is the entire League here? Did _everyone_ know except for me?"

"Roy–"

"Screw you. I know I'm not your sidekick anymore, but Robin and Wally are _my friends_. You had no right to keep this from me."

Oliver wilted. "I didn't know how to tell you."

Roy narrowed his eyes.

"Not that that let's me off the hook! I just… God, Roy, I can barely wrap my own head around it."

"What the hell happened?"

"We don't actually know. Wally hasn't… been forthcoming with the details."

Roy let out a huff. "Kaldur, explain, please."

A weighed down Kaldur stood from the couch. "Batman sent us on a mission to meet with Joker in Arkham. The Joker managed to knock us out, and he took Robin and Kid Flash. This is where my knowledge fails."

Roy wasn't sure he'd heard right. "That's it?" he asked. "That's all you know? I knew all that from the stupid news! I thought Wally was okay?"

"He is," said Barry.

"Then why hasn't he told you anything?"

"Because he's been sulking since he got back."

"Artemis!" admonished Oliver.

"It's true," said Artemis, sitting grumpily on the couch. "I get that he went through a trauma or whatever, but he's acting like he has a monopoly on caring about Robin. No one else will say it, but he's being a jerk."

"Sounds about right," Roy muttered to himself. "I'll talk to him."

"Not in Robin's room, you won't," said Oliver. "He doesn't need the stress of listening to you two argue."

"What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"Boys," said Diana, cutting in before things moved from cold to frigid.

"I'll be back," said Roy, waving lazily as he turned away. "Don't anyone else go and almost die while I'm gone and then not tell me about it."

"Brat," said Oliver.

"Bastard," Roy shot back.

And because Roy's back was turned, he didn't see the sad look that fell over Oliver's face.

It was strange, being back at the Mountain. Roy wasn't a part of the team. He wasn't part of the League. He was an outsider. An ex-sidekick that everyone had apparently forgotten about. Even Oliver… He'd thought their years working together had meant more than that.

So, Roy was bitter, and Roy was angry, and being at the Mountain made him feel small and out of place and unwelcome–

But this was for Robin and Wally.

No matter his status as a superhero, those two had always been there for him, so he could suck up his stupid emotional baggage and rip Wally a new one like he needed.

He knew exactly what Artemis was talking about. Wally had a bad habit of blocking everyone else out when he was worried. Robin was usually the one who broke him out of it, but this time, Roy would have to do.

Out of consideration for Robin, he refrained from slamming the door open. Instead, he entered the room quietly, and the somber atmosphere assaulted him like a two-ton weight.

Wally looked up from his place at Robin's side and did a double take. "Roy?"

"You look like shit."

Wally turned his attention back to the masked boy on the bed.

"We need to talk," said Roy.

"Don't want to."

Roy frowned. He approached the bed. "How is he?"

"The same."

He grabbed Wally by the wrist and tugged him towards the door.

"What are you doing?"

"I said we need to talk."

Wally yanked his hand away. "Don't touch me."

Roy reached for him again–

Wally dodged out of his reach. "I'm not leaving him."

"You do not want to have this conversation here."

Wally sat back down in his chair. "I'm not leaving him."

Roy huffed and crossed his arms. He wanted to be stubborn? Fine.

Roy was an expert on stubborn.

He grabbed Robin's chart from the foot of the bed.

Fear entered Wally's eyes. "What are you doing?"

Roy leafed through the documents, his sour mood degrading with each word he read. "Grade two concussion. Broken ribs. Fractured radius–"

"Stop it."

He met Wally's eyes. "Ruptured spleen. Contusions–"

Wally jumped to his feet. "Dammit, Roy, I said stop!"

Roy had never seen Wally so angry, but underneath it all, those green eyes sparked with panic. Roy felt like a grade-A jerk, but he had to push his friend over the edge if he was going to reach him through the haze of hysteria that had cumulated around him. "Minor dehydration," he continued, his voice low. "Bruised sternum–"

Wally lunged for the chart. Roy held it above his head. They wrestled with each other for a moment, shoving hands in faces and elbowing each other in a brief, brutal struggle–

Roy shoved Wally back, chart still in hand.

"Bastard," spat Wally.

"I'm the bastard?" said Roy. "That's a long list of crap I just read, Wally. Everyone's minds are running in circles trying to figure out just what the hell happened to you two, so get off the damn self-pity train and tell us, you selfish ass!"

"Keep your voice down," snarled Wally, glancing at Robin.

"Maybe you should come talk outside like I first suggested!"

"I said I'm not leaving him!"

Roy tossed the chart onto Robin's bed. "Based on what I just read, he's not waking up anytime soon."

"He shouldn't have to be alone."

"Did you at least tell Batman?"

"I told him what he needed to know."

"And you can't give us the same courtesy?"

"I don't want to!" cried Wally. "I don't want to _think_ about it, Roy!"

"Tough!" said Roy. "You think you're the only one suffering? The entire League is downstairs, out of their minds with worry, nobody bothered to even tell me what was going on, and I'm pretty sure Kaldur is punishing himself with a major guilt trip!"

Wally shook his head and placed his hands over his ears, eyes wide.

"No, I'm gonna talk and you're gonna damn-well listen! You went through something traumatic. I get it. But you do not get to hide yourself away in here and shut everyone out! You're not the only one who cares, and you need to get it through your fat, idiotic head that it is _killing us_ not knowing what happened–" and to his horror his voice broke.

Wally's gaze snapped to him.

Roy looked away. He kicked one of the empty beds. "Fuck!"

Wally reached out. "Roy–"

The door flew open, revealing a furious Dr. Thompkins. " _What_ do you boys think you're doing?" Do you hear yourselves?"

They had the decency to look abashed.

"Get out."

Wally blanched. "But–"

" _Out_."

They found themselves locked out of the med bay, not quite sure exactly how it happened.

Wally returned to his place on the floor and tucked his knees to his chest.

Roy sighed and dropped onto the floor next to him, legs splayed out in front of him. "I'm not trying to be cruel," he said. Wally's breathing hitched, and he shook his head. "But, _Jesus_ Wally, what the hell happened to you two?"

Wally didn't answer for a long time. Since Roy had gotten him kicked out of Robin's room, he felt he owed him some time to collect himself.

Wally sniffled and wiped an arm across his face. "I hate Gotham."

Roy stared.

Wally fidgeted with the laces on his shoe. "The trip through Arkham alone… I knew it was an asylum, but I don't think I realized just how _crazy_ everyone was… and the Joker was on another level. You want to know what happened? It's not even anything… It wasn't… Joker just beat the crap out of him."

Roy felt something constrict in his chest. "And you?"

"I was tied up. Useless."

"But you escaped."

Wally scoffed and hugged himself tighter. "I screwed up. I got us stranded in the middle of nowhere, and then we got separated. And that's it. That's what happened. Have fun telling everyone downstairs. It wasn't quite as grand as you were expecting, was it?"

"Wally–"

"Everyone wanted to know, like it would make things better, like there would be some heroic tale of our escape that would offset the horrible consequences–"

"That's not what they meant."

"Like it wasn't all just _pathetic–_ "

"Wally," said Roy. "Stop." He turned his body to face him, because Wally needed to hear this, and he needed to know that Roy was being sincere. "You're not pathetic."

"Rob was incredible," said Wally. "He was so strong. The whole time… You know, he didn't beg once? Despite everything… Despite all that Joker did…"

"That doesn't sound pathetic to me."

"I never said _Robin_ was pathetic. Moron."

Roy grit his teeth and tried to keep his temper in check.

"But me…" Wally whispered. "I didn't do anything. I just ran."

"You got him out of there," said Roy. "You saved his life."

Wally curled tighter. "Did I?"

Roy's gaze was drawn to the closed door of the medical bay. He thought of Robin's chart, and the extensive list of injuries and the worried faces downstairs. He stood and held out a hand for Wally. "Come on," he said. "You need to tell them what you told me."

"Can't you just do it?"

Roy shook his head, keeping his arm outstretched. "It'll mean more coming from you. You need to tell them how strong he was. It'll hurt, but it'll help."

Shoulders slumped with dread, Wally took his hand and got to his feet.

And cities away, on the dark streets of Gotham, Batman apprehended the Joker.


	14. A Waking Nightmare

Wally had nightmares, sometimes. He'd been embarrassed about them, at first, kept them to himself, until Barry told him that he had nightmares sometimes, too.

It was part of being a hero, being haunted by the what ifs.

Not a lot scared Wally.

Zoom scared him, certainly, and the thought of his family getting hurt scared him, but for a long time, he'd been on the top of the world. The hero gig was better than anything he'd ever dreamed, and whenever he did get unsettled in the field, Barry always had his back. So even when he was scared, he wasn't _scared_. Not really. It was different for speedsters, he thought–riding the speed force, high on adrenaline–than it was for other heroes. The speed force made you feel _invincible_.

But there were always what ifs.

 _What if Barry was too late, this time?_ _What if Zoom went after Wally's parents? What if Wally wasn't fast enough to save someone?_

These were the things he had nightmares about.

Or at least, they were.

He'd had this kind of dream before. The kind where you knew you were dreaming, or at least thought you were, or the kind where you were so sure you weren't dreaming, only to wake and find that you were–the ones that messed with your head.

He felt it, that awareness in the back of his head, the feeling that something was wrong. That something wasn't real.

He opened his eyes.

He was back in the shipping containment building, tied to that damn pillar. He'd dreamt it all. Their escape, their rescue, making it back to Mount Justice–None of it had been real.

Robin laid unconscious on the floor in front of him. Had Wally blacked out? The throbbing pain in his head spoke of another failed attempt at phasing through the ropes, but why was Robin unconscious? How much time had he lost? How much of what he remembered was real?

The door to the shipping containment building slammed open and Wally jumped in his bindings. Joker sauntered over with an ax and a wide grin.

Wally very dearly wanted to know why he had an ax.

Joker turned and stopped at the hanging dead man with the hook in his stomach, the hook that Robin had cut his bindings on. Wally jerked his head to check if he'd dreamt that, too.

Robin's hands weren't bound.

 _So, Robin had gotten free. That had happened._ Rob's belt was lying on the floor a few yards to Wally's left. _And Joker made Rob take off his belt…_

Then Wally's musings were splattered with blood.

Joker hacked into the side of the dead man with the ax. Wally tore his eyes away, but his stomach churned at the image seared into his mind of bloody chunks of flesh tearing and ripping apart as Joker hacked his way deeper–

And the _sound_ of it–

Wally gagged.

There was a terrible, horrible thwacking sound as the ax hit bone. Wally shut his eyes tight and willed it to be over. The Joker's breaths were heavy, fatigued, until finally, after _minutes_ , there was a solid _thud_.

Wally knew he shouldn't look. He really shouldn't look.

"I forget sometimes," came Joker's voice from the darkness, "the effort that takes." There was a clanging, like he'd dropped the ax to the side. "Well, now that he's out of the way…"

Footsteps, towards Robin, and he had to look, now, didn't he? He couldn't leave Robin alone with that bastard.

He cracked his eyes open and swallowed back bile.

The man was jaggedly hacked in two. His waist and legs were in a crumpled mess on the floor, his torso a foot or so to the side. Wally could see a bit of white where the man's spine stuck out, no longer binding the two halves of the body together. The hook dripped with blood.

Joker grabbed Robin by the front of his uniform and lifted him like a ragdoll. _He was so light_. Rob had always been small, but he'd never looked smaller.

Joker turned with Robin towards the swinging, bloody hook and Wally's breath caught in his throat.

He vibrated knowing it wouldn't do any good. He'd never actually escaped the ropes, which meant he couldn't actually do it. He'd dreamt it. It had all been a part of his unconscious mind's desperate attempts to escape the reality of their situation.

He was so fucking helpless, and God, _Robin_.

"Stop," croaked Wally, his voice dry and flaky and weak.

So fucking _useless._

Robin moaned, shifting in the Joker's grip, and Wally strained against the ropes, despair filling him like a lead weight.

" _Stop_."

Useless, useless, useless.

He couldn't look away.

Joker shoved the hook through Robin's left shoulder, in the soft spot under the collar bone. Robin's eyes shot open and his hands scrambled towards his shoulder as he let out a choked cry of pain. Then Joker released his hold and Robin's full weight bared down on the hook. Rob screamed then, really _screamed_ , and it didn't sound like Rob anymore. It didn't even sound _human_.

The scream choked off near the end as Rob pulled at the chain, trying to let up on the pressure.

Wally shut his eyes.

A nightmare. This was all a nightmare.

But it was too real. The chill of the pillar at his back. The sounds. He didn't think his mind could invent sounds he'd never heard before, because he had _never_ heard Robin scream like that. Surely Wally's mind wasn't so deranged that he could imagine _that_.

"It's okay, Wally." Wally's eyes snapped open. Robin looked at him as he fought to keep his shaking breaths even. The blood that seeped down his uniform was a shade darker than the red of his tunic.

Wally choked back a sob. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm _sorry_." For so many things.

Robin's grip on the chain loosened. "You've nothing to be sorry for." His voice was soft, and Wally knew it was over, even before Joker picked up the ax.

Wally knew what was coming, but this time, he couldn't look away.

Joker brought the ax back with a sickening grin. "Bye-bye, Dickie!" And he swung.

Wally jerked awake with a cry, slapping away the hand on his shoulder with a terrified swing of his arm.

He was… in Mount Justice?

He was in the medical bay. It had been a dream.

A nightmare.

Big, blue eyes stared at him from the bed, a hand still hovering where it had been slapped away. "Walls?"

Wally's face crumpled. He dropped his face into his hands and stifled a sob.

There was movement from the bed and hitched, painful breathing, and he hated himself because he was making Robin worry, but he couldn't stop crying.

A soft, tentative hand rested on Wally's shoulder.

Wally had so many things he wanted to say, but he could barely breathe, so he just sat there, in his chair at Robin's side, shaking, trying to pull himself together. "I'm so glad you're alive," choked Wally.

"Me too," said Robin with a breath that might have been a laugh had he the strength to make it one.

Wally jumped to his feet, still half-crying. "You're probably in pain! Are you in pain? I should get someone! Stupid. I should've–"

Robin shook his head and grimaced. He gingerly probed the white bandage wrapped around his temple with the arm that wasn't in a splint. "Stay," he said, his voice soft and hoarse.

Wally hesitated. "Rob, you're hurting," he said softly. "I'll be right back, I promise."

Robin caught Wally's sleeve, something wild in his eyes, then he saw Wally's bandaged leg, and any color left in his face leeched away.

"Already healed," said Wally.

"What happened?"

Wally pulled away. "I should really–"

"Wally."

And that really wasn't fair. How the hell did Robin pull out that voice when he was lying prone on a medical bed?

"Just a run-in with Mr. Freeze. Really," he hurried, seeing Robin's eyes widen. "It's already healed."

Robin eyed him like he thought he was lying. Wally let out a sigh, bent over, and unwrapped the bandages around his leg. "See?" said Wally, feeling strangely awkward. "Good as new."

Robin shut his eyes tight, and all thoughts of leaving to fetch Dr. Thompkins vanished. His concern exploded into full-blown panic when he realized that Robin was crying. "H-hey!" he cried. "What's wrong? What hurts?"

Robin wiped his eyes with the back of his forearm, annoyed. "Nothing."

Wally sat back down and waited. His nightmare ghosted to the forefront of his mind. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Me too."

Wally jerked his head up sharply. "What the hell are you sorry for?"

Robin looked miserable. "I shouldn't have let you come to Arkham." He stiffened. Then, his eyes widened, and he tried to sit up–and gave up instantly as he let out a shout of pain.

"What the _hell_ , Rob?" Wally cried, on his feet, hands hovering, not knowing how to help.

"The team," said Robin, "are they all right? Did you find them? Were they–?" _Were they even alive?_

"The team–? You nearly gave me a heart attack!" said Wally. "The team is fine! Everyone's just worried about you. Moron."

Robin didn't answer, and Wally's heart sank as he realized his friend was concentrating on breathing. His gaze caught on the bandages around Robin's chest. They peeked out from the blankets that had been dislodged in Robin's bout of stupidity. He couldn't help but think back to Roy reading Robin's chart.

_Broken ribs. Bruised sternum._

His eyes found the bandage wrapped around Robin's head. _Concussion._

The splinted arm. _Fractured radius._

 _Contusions_ –

"Would you stop looking at me like that?"

Wally tore his eyes from Robin's injuries. "Like what?"

"Like I'm dying."

An awkward silence settled over them.

Wally stood. "I should… get Dr. Thompkins."

Robin didn't stop him this time.

He found Dr. Thompkins talking with Superman and told her Robin was awake, then he wandered the halls of Mount Justice.

Not a lot scared Wally.

But Joker… Joker scared him. And Robin getting hurt scared him.

He picked up his pace.

It _terrified_ him.

 _Useless_.

The sun hit Wally's face as he left the Mountain and _he ran_.

Back in the medical bay, Robin sulked. He shouldn't have lost his temper, but his whole body hurt, and seeing Wally look at him like he was dying was freaking him out, if only because he knew how close it had been.

Too close.

Much, much too close.

He would have to apologize, later.

But right now, all he wanted was some pain killers. His head and arm throbbed, and his chest felt like it was on fire. He should have just let Wally get Leslie when he'd first woken, but Wally had freaked him out then, too, with the crying, and the bandaged leg, and the apologizing–

Wally shouldn't be apologizing. It was Robin's fault. Robin was the one who took them to Arkham. Robin was the one who got them caught by the Joker. Robin was the one who had been useless in their escape, and then in the Narrows.

He grit his teeth and clenched his good hand in the sheets.

It had been too damn close. He'd been so sure, as he'd crawled between those dumpsters, running off the last dregs of the adrenaline, that he'd been breathing his last breaths. He'd sent a silent thank you to Bruce and an apology to Wally, and he'd tried to fight his growing terror as the world faded away.

He'd gotten lost in the dark for a while.

But he came back.

He'd been in pain and Wally was crying and breathing hurt and _he'd almost died_. It had been a long time since he'd been that scared.

He was grateful, now, for this brief moment of solitude, if only so he could have the chance to gather himself before anyone else looked at him like Wally had, like he was dying…

For a second, he envied Wally's ability to cry so openly, but then Leslie walked in, and the feeling passed. She gave him some morphine and the relief had him sinking into the covers as his eyes drooped. He vaguely registered her cool fingers on his hot skin as she checked his bandages. He thought she might be frowning, but he was too far gone to dwell on it.

He drifted.

It was warm in his little cocoon of blankets, and without the pain, it was almost peaceful.

Except for something nagging at the back of his head. Something that he ought to be worried about. Something like the frown on Leslie's face as he'd floated away…

It irritated him for some reason, that frown, like she was disappointed, and as his cocoon turned from warm to hot, he wondered what he'd done to disappoint her. She was always strict with her instructions for recovery, and while Robin certainly wasn't always great at following them, he did try, usually, and he didn't like to see that look on her face because it meant something was wrong. With him, or with Bruce.

Had something happened to Bruce?

He reached out blindly for her, to ask, but it wasn't her there anymore, it was Clark, and he was frowning, too.

"Bruce?" he asked, hoping Clark would reassure him of his guardian's whereabouts, but whatever Clark said was lost on the way to his ears. "Bruce," he said again, angry that Clark didn't understand what he wanted.

Clark turned away and Robin wanted to scream in frustration because _why wasn't he listening?_ But then he returned with Bruce at his side and Robin finally relaxed.

Leslie was wrong. Bruce was fine.

But Bruce's smile was forced, and that nagging feeling that something was wrong didn't go away.

Then Barry was there, and when had Clark left? Barry and Bruce talked together in muffled voices when Robin remembered that he'd wanted to apologize to Wally for earlier.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Barry and Bruce froze. The two exchanged a look and suddenly Robin knew.

It was him. Something was wrong with _him_. That's why Leslie…

"M'sorry," he said again, to Bruce this time.

Bruce looked scared. " _Leslie!_ " he cried, and everything faded away into an all-encompassing, burning heat.

Of all the things that Robin had thought would kill him…

Turns out it was the Joker, after all.

Infection, technically. Fever. But that didn't sound as cool. It was Joker's fault, anyway, so…

He wondered who would tell Wally.

Damn, he'd never apologized.

Barry would probably be the one to tell him. They were close. Partners. Family. " _Wally, I'm… so sorry. There was nothing we could do._ "

But, no… Bruce… Bruce would see it as his responsibility. He'd put up that wall that made him seem like an emotionless dickhead because he couldn't deal with his feelings like a normal person, and he'd look at Wally all stiff and stone-faced and say, " _He's gone._ " Then he'd turn away, because looking at a devastated Wally would be too much for him.

Superman would probably tell the team, Bruce wouldn't be able to say it again. Then Batman would run off to deal with his emotions by planting his fist into as many bad guys' faces as he could manage before he returned home to collapse in an exhausted heap, too tired to dream.

Clark would be sad, but he'd stay strong for the team until he was alone–no, not alone. Clark was different than Bruce, who would hide away and refuse to deal with his grief. Clark would cry on somebody's shoulder. His Earth parents, maybe. Or Lois.

Who would tell Barbara?

Her father. No doubt.

But then… Who would tell her about _Dick?_

The peace Robin felt at his death cracked.

Why this? Out of everything that would distress him, now, why this thought of Barbara mourning his other half?

She wasn't a hero, his rational mind supplied, she wasn't used to death, like they were. She wouldn't understand. What would they tell her? What would be the official story that was published in the papers and tabloids and on the five-o-clock news? They couldn't release his body, not when it so obviously had evidence of Joker's latest spree. Would Bruce just claim that Dick had never come home? Then, a few weeks later, he'd be presumed dead?

Would Gordon fall for that? The man knew him as both Dick and Robin, all the pieces were there. When they both turned up dead, would it all click in his head? Would he finally realize that the mathlete he shared the occasional Sunday dinner with was the same kid with whom he stared down hardened criminals on a nightly basis?

But there was that thought again, nagging…

Presumed dead…

Barbara deserved better than that.

She would hold out hope, he knew, far longer than was healthy. She would be angry and frustrated, and she wouldn't understand, and she would blame the world, including her father, for a while.

Robin began to push back.

She deserved better.

He hadn't thought there was any strength left in him. But this thought, this feeling, it woke something in him that refused to go out like _this_.

Because she deserved better.


	15. Loose Ends

Wally returned to find things in a much worse state than they'd been in when he’d left. Barry was crying, Batman was yelling and sounding an awful lot like Bruce, and Leslie was on a rampage.

Robin had a fever.

It seemed all of Leslie's precautions against infection had fallen short. Wally blamed her even though he knew it wasn't her fault. Robin had pushed himself to his limits even before they'd reached the Narrows, and the streets they'd found themselves stranded on hadn't been clean. Any number of Robin's injuries could have fallen prey to the grime of the city… but it was the cut on his hand that was infected. The one he'd gotten trying to cut Wally free.

There was no semblance of rationality left in Bruce. He was kicked out, forced to pace in the hallway and keep Wally and Barry company who had also, incidentally, been kicked out. It seemed three superheroes second-guessing her every move had been too much for Leslie. Superman and Alfred were in there with her, able enough to keep their heads that she allowed them to help.

After hours or maybe days or even years of waiting, Leslie opened the door and told them that Robin was holding on, but that they shouldn't get their hopes up. Wally and Bruce sat on either side of Dick's bed, too scared to acknowledge anything out loud.

Wally slept in that room. He only ate what Barry would bring him, and any bathroom breaks were limited to bodily functions alone. He didn't shower. He didn't change. He felt like he was wasting away along with Robin.

And then Batman had Robin moved to the Batcave where Wally couldn't visit, and Wally _lost it_.

It took an intervention from Roy and the team to get him to calm down enough to go home. He slept for two days straight. He did feel better afterwards, and hungry, and with waking came Barry with good news: Robin was going to be okay.

The relief made Wally's knees weak and he'd had to sit down. He’d cried and laughed and cried again, and his anger, which had been dormant with exhaustion, returned full force. He would _never_ forgive Batman for taking Robin away. Wally had tried to visit, but the Cave was on lockdown. Was isolating the Cave Batman's way of lying to the world, letting them all think Robin was alive and recovering, when in fact Batman was selfishly taking the time to mourn? He knew even as he thought it that it was ridiculous, but his leniency for Batman had been all but obliterated, so he allowed himself to consider the possibility.

The team was on standby. No missions until Robin returned, which, supposedly, would be at least another two months or so. They were all anxious to see Robin, but the news that he was recovering seemed to be enough for them.

Wally still wasn't allowed to visit. He argued with Barry about it, even though Barry agreed with Wally, but Wally argued with everyone these days.

After a month of radio silence, Wally's anger broadened its horizons to Robin. Sure, Batman probably forbid Robin from contacting the team until he was recovered, but Robin was a computer genius, he could have easily found some way to send a message. A simple 'not dead' would have sufficed. It only stood to reason that Robin was ignoring him. He began to wonder if his nonexistent visitation rights weren't put in place by Bruce at all.

It was weeks later that Wally's restlessness came to a head. Everyone was moving on, but he felt like he was still stuck in that shipping containment building, still tied to that damn pillar.

So he stopped at home to grab what he needed and ran to Gotham.

Wally was at full strength. He was confident that he could handle a situation should one arise–his plan to book it out of there at the slightest hint of trouble was practically full proof. This was something he had to do, and he couldn't ask Barry for help, not with this. And he wouldn't ask Batman.

Wally returned the phone he stole, and he replaced the food he'd eaten.

He ran home.

Back to the grind. His life had become dull monotony on a loop. Everything had been stuck in stasis for weeks, which was why, when he went to the mountain for training that next day, he was struck dumb at the sight of Robin already there, casually leaning against the wall in his civvies with a smirk on his face and a 'Hey Walls.'

A dozen things ran through his mind, not one of them being that he should _punch_ _his best friend_ , but he did anyway. The speed force was funny like that, sometimes. His fist had moved before he had the thought to move it, or to remember why it was a bad idea, but even after he'd done it and Robin was on the floor rubbing at his jaw and Artemis was yelling an angry _"Wally!"_ he didn't regret it. Batman wouldn't have let Robin return to the mountain if he weren't healed enough to take a hit.

Robin wiped his mouth, stood, and put a calming hand on Artemis' shoulder. "I deserved that one."

"The _hell_ you did!"

"What's the matter, remember I exist?" Wally snapped, and Robin flinched.

Artemis shoved Wally back. "He's hurt, you moron!"

"Like Batman would let him come," snarled Wally.

Robin laughed with a sheepish rub to the back of his neck. "About that…"

Wally huffed and crossed his arms. "You're an idiot if you came here without getting cleared by Leslie."

Robin shrugged. "Probably."

Wally eyed him. He looked better, but considering the last time he'd seen him he'd been dying, it wasn't saying much. "I shouldn't have punched you."

"No shit," muttered Artemis.

"Like I said, I deserved it," said Robin.

"Yeah," said Wally, "you did."

There was a moment where Wally suspected Artemis debated calling for backup when Rob grinned. "Wanna get crushed in Super Mecha III?"

"As if I'd fall to the likes of you."

They hopped the couch and started playing their video game.

"You guys are losers," said Artemis.

It was an hour into having his butt whooped by Robin that he broached the subject. "You good?"

"Will be," said Robin.

"You could have called."

Robin's mecha character lost the advantage and Wally won his first match of the night. He found he wasn't all that proud. The option for a rematch popped up, and neither of them pressed it.

Wally glanced at his friend, who was pale. He wondered what had stopped Robin from reaching out. He wondered if maybe he hadn't been ignoring Wally at all, but avoiding thinking about it all together.

"But I get why you didn't," said Wally softly, the anger melting away.

Robin pressed rematch and they started the bout again. Wally lost. Back to normal, then.

Robin didn't talk about the Joker. Wally used to wonder if it was to spare him the gory details or if Robin just didn't like talking about it. Now he knew, because now Wally had the gory details, and Robin still wasn't talking.

Wally didn't much like talking about the Joker, either.

Batman's missions kept them out of Gotham, which Wally was selfishly glad of. The team didn't belong there, he knew that now. Wally had experienced the darkness firsthand, and it had left a seed in his heart. No, it was best to keep Gotham in Gotham, with heroes like Batman and Robin who knew how to keep that darkness contained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the journey! I know I had a great time writing this story. See you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy!


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